Show Me Something More
by Discordia81
Summary: For ten years, Edward Cullen has had a secret desire. Isabella Swan is in the business of making fantasies come true. Together, they'll discover more than they ever expected. 1st place winner for Public Vote and Judge's Choice in the LDA anonymous contest. Collab with karenec
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** Entry for the LDA Anonymous TwiFic Contest, co-written with karenec. We placed first in the Public Vote and first in the Judges' Choice. EEP!

Our thanks to the hosts, Livie79 and ooza, and to the judges, Alleeab4u, AwesomeSauce76, capitalAB, luvrofink, RoseArcadia, Stickybuns, Livie79, and ooza. RoseArcadia made some fab blinkies, links on my profile, as well as a link to the other fabulous entries.

Big thanks to our beta, Alice's White Rabbit - she makes our docs so much better.

This story came about, as most things Karen and I do, as a chat on FB. In no time at all, we were plotting out this o/s for the contest.

**WARNING:** Warning: This story explores F/M pegging. "you can google it."

Without further ado, we give you Assward and Tartella.

* * *

**Show Me Something More**

The sharp rap of her heels on the marble floor echoes through the nearly empty lobby. A few hotel guests turn briefly toward the sound and then look away, the men's eyes lingering on the woman's body. Without question, she's beautiful, with the kind of figure that women envy and men covet.

She carries herself with easy grace, walking confidently toward the hotel bar from the elevators.

The dark-haired woman checked into the hotel earlier, careful to project the image of an out-of-towner staying over for business. She has to be prudent, never staying at the same hotel too often or letting it slip that she's anything but what her meticulously cultivated image suggests. In her line of work, one can never be too cautious.

When she steps into the hotel bar, she pauses for a moment, surveying the room, looking for the man she's supposed to meet.

He's sitting at the far end of the gleaming bar. She walks toward him, aware of the hungry eyes of the other men in the room ... as well as one woman. Interesting. The man at the far end of the bar is the one she's here for, though.

The man tugs at the cuffs of his button-down shirt as he watches her saunter toward him. She's even more beautiful than her picture. He likes the length of her dark hair and her smart grey wrap dress, as well as the quiet confidence she exudes and the curve of her smile. She's attractive, but it's more than that.

The dark-haired woman slides gracefully onto the bar stool two seats over from him, giving him a small smile as she sets her purse on the bar. The bartender appears in front of her immediately, turning away almost at once to fill her order.

The man has a square, masculine jaw set off by high cheekbones and beautiful, large eyes. He's handsome, but she's been with handsome men before. She takes in his relaxed posture, the appreciative way he looks her over, and how comfortable he looks in his own skin. She likes him; something about him puts her at ease.

"Come here often?" he asks, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Only when I'm in town on business," she quips. They both know it's a lie, but it's a good ice breaker and helps with her cover.

The man angles his body toward her and takes a sip of his drink. They make small talk for a few moments before he holds out his hand. "Edward Cullen."

"Isabella."

They shake, and she notices for the first time how large his hands are. They're a little rough and calloused—a working man's hands. She likes them. She can imagine how strong they'll feel gripping her thighs and the rough pads of his fingers rubbing against her clit.

But that's not what they are here for; she has to remember that.

"Would you like to have a seat at one of the tables?" he offers during a brief lull in their small-talk. "We could order another drink, maybe an appetizer if you're hungry?"

The woman nods and stands gracefully, allowing the man to escort her to the small booth toward the back of the bar. It's empty enough that no one will be in earshot, and they can discuss what they're both here for.

They place their orders for another drink and an appetizer to share, and once the waiter leaves, the man looks at her and wets his lips. For the first time, he seems nervous. Not uncomfortable exactly, but certainly a little on edge.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" she asks quietly.

His lips curl up into a smile, and he relaxes a little. "No, not at all."

"Tell me what you're thinking," she says, smiling encouragingly.

"I've had this fantasy for years," he explains. "For a while, I thought maybe I was gay. I went out on a few dates with guys, kissed them, even fooled around a bit. It was nice, but I wasn't attracted to men. My sexuality had nothing to do with it. I was still attracted to women; I just wanted one to fuck my ass."

The dark-haired woman nods, encouraging him to continue.

He sighs. "I've used toys on myself, used my fingers, but it isn't the same."

"Is there a humiliation aspect to it?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "No, I know there is for some men, but that isn't part of it for me. Nor is there any kind of feminization. I don't feel like less of a man having a woman fuck me."

"I was just curious. I want to do everything I can to make your fantasy happen," she explains.

He nods appreciatively. "I'm happy to answer any questions."

"Why me?" she asks. "You're clearly financially well-off; you have to be in order to afford me …" she pauses and takes one of his hands in hers, rubbing her thumb across the calluses on his palm. "Although, I admit, I'm curious. What do you do for a living? Something with your hands, obviously."

He laughs warmly, liking the way she hasn't let go of his hand and the fact that she's blunt. "I'm a woodworker. I make violins—high-end, custom designs."

"Violins? Interesting." Her eyes light up at the unexpected answer. But rather than ask the thousand questions that have popped into her head, she continues with her original thought.

"Why do you want me to do this to you? You're a handsome, well-off man who could attract women easily. Why hire me?"

He shrugs, his expression rueful. "Because finding a woman who is interested in pegging is much more difficult that you'd think. None of the women I've been in relationships with have been interested. In fact, several were downright horrified or disgusted by the idea."

She strokes his palm unconsciously, seeing the lingering hurt behind his eyes. He curls his fingers around her thumb, taking comfort from her touch.

She nods understandingly. "That makes sense, I suppose. Their loss, too."

Their drinks and appetizer arrive, and they sip and nibble while they talk. They discussed his expectations for the evening when they set this up, but she's found that it helps when she can see his reactions. The subtle cues he gives off with his body and eyes tell her so much.

Forgotten food and drinks get pushed aside as the tension between them builds. The man and woman grow silent and look at each other for a long moment, knowing exactly what will happen when they go upstairs.

"Are you ready?" she asks finally.

He nods, once. "You have no idea."

The woman grins when she sees excitement flash in the man's eyes, and she chuckles when he smiles in return, his cheeks flushing pink. Discreetly, she takes a keycard from her purse and slides it over the table, nodding when the man covers it with one large hand.

"Room 98331," she says, gathering her purse. "Give me fifteen minutes or so before you follow."

**~o0o~**

The muted beep of the keycard at the door alerts the woman of her client's arrival. She has just finished neatly folding the bedspread, tucking it off to the side, and laying towels on the soft white sheets. She turns from her task to meet his eyes as he enters the room, a soft smile crossing her face when she sees both his excitement and nerves.

"Hi, again," he says, pocketing the keycard absently as he advances.

"Hi, yourself," she replies, holding out her hand in greeting and reassurance. "Come on over here, so we can talk a little bit more."

That tantalizing blush colors the man's cheeks as he comes to stand at the woman's side in front of the desk, holding her much smaller hand in his own. His eyes widen as they move over the objects she has laid out: a bottle of lubricant, a wide black scarf, and an incredibly sexy strap-on with shiny black straps and a purple dildo attachment. The boxes the toys came in are there too, stacked by the edge of the desk and out of the way.

"Jesus," he murmurs, his lips parting slightly. His heartbeat speeds and warmth runs under his skin at the realization that what he's wanted for so long is finally going to happen.

The dark-haired woman tilts her head as she watches him, nodding in approval when his free hand reaches out to touch the strap-on, his large fingers gently brushing the edge of the harness. "Do you like what you see?" she asks.

"Yes, very much." His voice is hoarse, and he swallows hard before turning to meet her eyes. "What's the scarf for?"

"It's a blindfold," she replies easily. "It's here in case you feel more comfortable wearing one. Your choice, of course."

He nods mutely, his chest tight with nerves and yearning. The light touch of the woman's fingers on his jaw steady him slightly, as does the more serious expression in her eyes and face.

"We'll go slowly, so that we can both understand what makes you feel good. If you want to stop or become uncomfortable at any time, don't hesitate to tell me. There's no shame in anything we're doing here today, Edward. I'm here to make you feel good."

"All right," he murmurs, drawing a deep breath as the tension in his chest loosens.

Dropping his hand, the woman uses her hands to turn the man toward her and then runs her fingers over his shoulders, smoothing the cotton shirt against his skin. She wants to please this man, not only because he is her client, but because she likes him and wants him to enjoy this experience. The idea of fulfilling his fantasy is more appealing than she would have imagined.

"Are you ready?" A warm feeling stirs in her as she watches the man's pupils dilate with desire.

"Yes," he replies, raising his hands to rest on her waist. He leans forward before pausing, and the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. "May I kiss you, Isabella?"

"Of course." The woman returns his smile, charmed by the question and his obvious desire to treat her with respect.

The man leans forward again, brushing his lips over the woman's. He lingers for just a moment, learning her taste, before deepening the kiss. Pleasure zings through him, making his breath quicken, and he pulls the woman closer, his hands pressing into her body. He groans softly when her tongue slides against his lips, and his cock twitches as their mouths move together.

The dark-haired woman hums, winding her arms around the man's neck as they kiss, and heat rushes through her when he catches her lower lip gently between his teeth. His big hands move over her body, grabbing her waist and ass with an edge of roughness that she likes.

She pulls away, smiling at the man's low murmur of complaint before trailing kisses along his jaw. He tilts his head to the side, holding still while she presses her mouth to his throat, and her fingers move to unbutton his shirt.

"Fuck," he rasps, goose bumps rising on his skin when the woman slides a hand over his bare chest.

"Soon," she replies, smiling when she feels a laugh rumble through the man's chest.

With sure hands and steps, the woman steers him toward the bed, peeling away his shirt as they move before unbuckling his belt. They pause when his calves hit the edge of the mattress, and he pulls back to watch her unzip his fly. He licks his lips as she slides his trousers and boxers down over the curve of his ass, enjoying the playful expression in her eyes.

She helps him sit on the edge of the bed, removing his shoes and socks before his trousers with quick, graceful movements, stroking his thighs and calves as she goes. The man leans back on his elbows when she rises, one hand coming to rest beside his cock as he watches her. He's hard, achingly so, and every inch of his skin feels alive.

Reaching to untie her dress, the woman feels a touch of shyness for the first time. She steps out of her heels with a grin, shaking her head when her cheeks heat, while the man's soft laughter fills the air. There's no reason she should be shy or flustered, but he brings that out in her for some reason.

She lets the dress slip from her shoulders, and his laughter stops abruptly. His eyes caress her, his lips parting as he stares at her. Unconsciously, his hand moves to his dick, stroking with slow, idle purpose as he watches her undress.

The dark-haired woman strips slowly out of her lacey panties and matching bra, watching the way the man's hand tightens on his cock. She saunters over to him, braces her hands on the bed on either side of his torso, and leans forward. He can feel the heat from her body against his, and his hand stills on his cock.

"Do you want a shower before we get started?" she asks.

The man shakes his head no. "As much fun as we could have in the shower together, I took one right before I came here. I'm squeaky clean."

Her lips curve up in a knowing smile. "Excellent."

She dips her head to kiss him again, enjoying the way he responds to her. Reaching behind him, she snags a pillow as she draws the kiss to a close. She moves her mouth to his firm chest, tonguing the crisp, sparse hairs as she kisses down his torso.

The man's eyes lock on hers as she looks up at him and he groans, a shudder running through him when her nipple drags across his aching dick. With a grin, she drops the pillow on the plush carpet at the foot of the bed, kneeling gracefully between his legs.

She teases him at first, with little licks to his shaft and nibbles on his inner thigh. The man's chest tightens when she uses one hand to press his cock up and flat against his body in order to reach his balls.

The woman likes that he's well-groomed; the skin around his cock and balls is shaved clean and still smelling faintly of shaving gel. She licks him enthusiastically, gently taking one of his balls into her mouth for a moment, liking the sounds of pleasure that rumble low in his chest.

When the dark-haired woman sits back, the wetness between her legs surprises her. She's always enjoyed bringing her clients pleasure, but something about this man's responses is intensely arousing.

"Edward, I want you to stand up and turn around." Her voice is a little husky, and the man's breath catches in his throat, while his heart beats faster with anticipation.

He rises and turns, positioning himself in front of the woman. She runs her hands up his thighs and presses on his lower back, urging him forward. "Bend over."

The man leans to rest his palms on the crisp white sheets, his breath hitching as he feels her warm breath on the back of his thigh. She runs her hands up and down his thighs again, and then smoothes her palms over his ass. Gently, she tugs his cheeks apart with her thumbs, making him shiver with anticipation.

"Tell me if you don't like this, Edward," she whispers as she leans in.

The shudder that rips down his spine at the first touch of her warm, wet tongue makes him gasp loudly. "No, it's good," he assures her, his belly clenching at the feeling. "Really good."

She licks lightly at first, teasing him, but assured that he is indeed enjoying this very much, she grows bolder. Her tongue becomes more insistent, and when it actually penetrates him, his cock throbs. His knees weaken, and he lurches forward with a grunt to crawl up onto the bed. Resting on his forearms, he pushes his ass up and back, widening his stance so that she can continue. The woman laughs softly and follows him, the movements of her tongue growing more forceful. She snakes one hand between his legs and gently tugs at his balls, drawing a low, tortured groan from the man in front of her.

She wraps her hand around his cock, feeling it throb. The man is squirming on the bed a little and seems unaware of the way he's fucking her fist. He makes a sound of complaint when she draws back, but she soothes him with a slow stroke of her hand on his lower back.

The man pants harshly, his mind spinning with pleasure. His belly clenches in anticipation as the woman gets up off the bed. She's gone for just a moment, and he closes his eyes as the bed dips under her weight when she returns.

He feels something silky trail up his side and over his back as the woman kneels behind him. "Do you want the blindfold, Edward?" Her voice is soft and reassuring, as is the hand she runs across his hip.

He nods once, so eager he can barely speak. "Yes," he manages to choke out as he sits back on his haunches, resting his ass on his heels.

The woman kisses his bare back before winding her arms around his chest in a brief embrace. The man lets go a shaky breath when he feels her cheek against his shoulder, running his palms over her forearms before she moves again. She lifts the scarf to cover his eyes, and then ties it securely behind his head. She smooths the silky mess of the man's red-brown hair around the scarf with her fingers, and then runs her hands across his back and shoulders when she sees that he is trembling.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice soothing.

"Eager," he answers promptly. "A little nervous."

"That's normal," she reassures him. "Remember, I'll stop any time you want me to, just say the word."

"I know." He draws in a ragged breath. "I trust you."

The woman runs her hand up the man's spine, stopping at the base of his neck, gently pressing him forward. He yields easily, allowing her to guide him as he settles forward onto his hands. The soft snick of the lube bottle opening catches his ear, and he takes a deep breath when the woman places a hand on his lower back. He feels a cool, wet finger slide against his crack, slowly circling before pressing gently forward.

The pressure is so light, the man can hardly feel it, but knowing what comes next makes him tense a little. He's done this countless times, pleasuring himself with his fingers and toys, but having someone else penetrate him is new and slightly nerve-wracking. He shifts on the bed, nodding unconsciously when she makes a low, soothing sound, her finger circling again.

"Relax, Edward," she urges, her breath warm against his skin. "Remember to push out when you feel my finger."

The man wills his body to relax when she applies a bit more pressure, pushing to open himself to her. He sighs when one slim fingertip breaches his body. His next breath seems loud in the quiet room, and the woman presses a kiss to his back.

"I need to know how you're feeling," she reminds him gently. "I need to know if anything is uncomfortable. We have all night, and I'll go as slow as you need."

The man nods, his head hanging low between his braced arms. The pose tightens the muscles of his ass, and the woman wets her lip at the sight of this strong man bent over for her. He trusts her, and she finds his vulnerability deeply arousing.

"I feel good," he manages. "Please, keep going."

The woman presses forward, feeling the man's body tense and then relax. She slides the finger all the way in, and he groans low in his throat when she does. His hips shift, widening his stance while she fucks him slowly with her finger, easy, gliding movements in and out of him. By the time the man begins to rock back onto her finger, his cock is throbbing.

He's dreamed about this for years, but the fantasy is easily surpassed by the actual experience. He groans with disappointment when her finger slides away, but shudders a moment later when a second finger joins the first at his entrance, both freshly slicked with lube.

The man wills himself to relax when the fingers press forward, the sting making him shift on the bed. The woman pauses, reminding him to let her know how he's doing. "I'm okay," he grits out. "Please, don't stop."

"Thank you," she murmurs, stroking his hip and back with her free hand as her slick fingers sink into him. His breath hitches as the two fingers breach the inner ring of muscles.

"I wish you could see this," she tells him. "You have no idea how arousing it is watching my fingers disappear in your ass, Edward."

She presses deep inside him, and he stops breathing altogether for a moment. "Fuck, I feel so full," he chokes out.

"Think about how full you'll feel when I'm sliding the toy into you. When I'm fucking you, Edward," she purrs.

Deprived of his sight, all the man can focus on is the warmth of the body behind him, the gentle teasing in the woman's voice, and the way her fingers feel buried in his ass. Her words sink in, and he swallows hard, clenching around her fingers at the thought. The edge of fear that runs through his body heightens his arousal, as does the promise in her words.

She leans forward, kissing up and down his spine to distract him. Her fingers scissor open, and the sound that leaves his mouth makes her eager to know what he'll sound like when she's fucking him. Pegging clients is nothing new to her, but there's something about this man that makes it even more enjoyable than usual.

"Christ," he swears between gritted teeth.

The woman moves her fingers again, pulling out and sinking in at a maddeningly slow pace. "You like that, don't you, Edward? The thought of me taking you like that. Of my cock pushing in to you."

She hopes she's reading him right and that he'll find her choice of words arousing, but when he freezes, she bites her lip, worried that she's just killed the mood. For several agonizing seconds, he's silent and still, and so is she.

At last, he blows out a long breath and groans. "Jesus, that's hot."

Her body almost sags with relief, and she resumes thrusting her fingers in and out of him. He presses back against her hand, his movements becoming needier. "You like that, huh? You like the idea of taking my cock."

The man is bewildered, unsure of exactly what he finds so arousing about her words. "Yeah," he says breathlessly. "You're so beautiful, but imagining you wearing that strap-on and fucking me with it is so fucking sexy, I can hardly stand it."

The woman smiles, pressing a kiss to the man's hip as her fingers move. "I like the idea, too. The idea of my cock in this beautiful ass, pressing so deep inside you."

"I want it," the man gasps, his balls drawing tight.

"I know you do," the woman croons. She curls her fingers then, searching for a moment and smiles when her fingers meet their mark.

The man jolts, his eyes clenching shut behind the scarf. "Fuck!" he cries softly, his arms trembling as the desire in his belly intensifies almost painfully.

"Not quite yet," the woman replies, "though something tells me you won't mind if we take our time getting there."

She works the man's ass, fingertips brushing his prostate again and again until his moans are constant. He gives in when the strength runs out of his arms, dropping onto his elbows to bury his face in the sheets.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," the man whines, his voice growing thin as he starts to soar.

"Will you come for me?" the woman asks softly, her fingers sinking deeper. "Let me see you, Edward. Let me feel you come from the inside."

Pleasure unlike any he's ever known crashes through the man, wracking his body. His mind empties as every nerve in his body screams, his cock painting the sheets with come.

"Jesus," the woman breathes, mesmerized at the sight of this man writhing against her hand. His abandon is beautiful.

Long moments pass during which the man knows nothing. He floats bonelessly, while the dark-haired woman cares for him with efficiency and tenderness. When he comes back to himself, the blindfold is gone. He is lying on his side, while a warm, damp cloth moves over his skin, cleaning the lube and come.

"Holy shit," he mumbles, smiling lazily when he hears a soft laugh. He peers up through sleepy eyes at the beautiful woman sitting by his side. "What the hell did you do to me, Isabella?"

"That was nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you later," she teases before cocking her head, watching his expression intently. "This may be a stupid question, but how do you feel?"

"I feel fucking good right now." He grins when the dark-haired woman laughs again. "Honestly, that was fucking amazing."

"It was amazing to watch." She smiles warmly as she gets to her feet. "You're very responsive, Edward."

The man laughs softly, rolling onto his belly to pillow his head on his arms. "Thank you, I think."

He closes his eyes, skirting the edges of sleep while the woman returns the washcloth to the bathroom. She watches her reflection in the mirror while washing her hands, smiling at her own bright eyes and the spots of color high on her cheeks. She looks pleased with herself and feels an unfamiliar eagerness to return to the man in the other room. To his pleasure and, perhaps, her own.

**~o0o~**

The corners of the woman's mouth curl up in a smile when she approaches the bed. The man is dozing, his handsome face flushed in sleep, lips softly parted over his soft breaths. She watches him for a few moments, taking in his long, relaxed limbs. Her eyes move over his body, taking in his strong shoulders and back, the curve of his bare ass making her lick her lips.

Quietly, she crosses the room to the desk, taking the strap-on harness in one hand and the dildo in another. The man's eyes are open when she turns to face the bed again, his gaze growing heated as it moves over her body and then to the toys in her hands.

"Are you ready for more, Edward?" Her voice is light, almost teasing, though the man knows she expects him to answer.

"Yes," he replies at once, his voice hoarse. Desire is stirring in his belly again already, and the sight of the strap-on and dildo make his heart thump and his dick harden.

The dark-haired woman crosses the room to stand beside the bed, laying the toy on the mattress in front of the man. Taking the harness in both hands, she bends forward gracefully, lowering her arms to step through the waist and into each leg hole. She moves with deliberation, pulling the harness up and around her hips and pelvis, her eyes often returning to meet the man's as he silently watches her, desire flashing in his eyes. She adjusts the straps on each side with nimble fingers, while the man admires the gleam of the black leather against her fair skin.

"Beautiful," he says quietly, shifting on the bed when the woman reaches for the dildo.

"You like this," she says, no question in her voice, taking a moment to run her hand over the base resting on her pelvis. The man's soft intake of breath is his only answer, and she nods in understanding.

He rolls onto his back, his eyes locking on the toy when the woman slips it inside the harness's waist and then through the hole in the base. The man's eyes widen, his cock growing almost painfully hard as she tightens the straps, the changing angle forcing the dildo to jut forward and up.

His voice wavers when he speaks. "Oh, fucking hell." His heart thunders in his ears, heat blazing in his body as he looks at the beautiful woman before him, wearing a cock just for him.

"Looks good, doesn't it?" she asks, one hand coming up, her finger and thumb closing over the toy at its base.

"Fuck, yes," the man mumbles, dropping his own hand to mimic her action, slipping his fingers around himself.

She steps closer, leaning over the man where he lies, her hands pressing into the mattress as if to kiss him, though she lets the tip of the dildo graze his belly instead. His groan is long and low, his mouth falling open as desire shoots through him. The woman kisses him then, bending to press their mouths together, and she hums when his tongue slides against hers. The kiss is deep and wet, and the man's hands move to grasp her hips, drawing her down to settle between his legs. He shudders hard when the dildo meets his cock, moaning into the woman's mouth before she pulls away.

"Can I fuck you, Edward?" she asks, rocking into the man beneath her, enjoying his gasps and trembling touch.

"Please," he grits out, his hands moving to squeeze her ass, "God, please ... yes. Fuck me."

"It would be my pleasure," she tells him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before she raises herself up. "Let's get you ready."

Climbing over him and then off the bed, the dark-haired woman holds out a hand to the man, guiding him up to sit before she reaches to the nightstand for the bottle of lube and the black scarf.

"You'll tell me if you need to stop," she prompts, pleased by the man's noise of affirmation.

Sitting down, she raises the blindfold between them, offering it to him wordlessly. She smiles when he takes the scarf, his cheeks burning with color and his glance almost shy when he raises his arms to tie the fabric around his head.

When his eyes are covered, she takes his hands in hers and stands, guiding him up and then turning his body to face the bed. Dropping one hand to the small of his back, she rubs warm circles into the skin, reaching around to place the other hand over his belly and pressing her chest against his back.

"Lean forward now," she murmurs, "and put your hands on the bed." She tips him forward slowly, watching until he's braced himself against the mattress before she lets go of his body. "Are you ready for me?"

"Yes." The man's low voice is steady, but he jumps slightly when the lube bottle snicks open. He breathes deeply to calm himself and hums under his breath when a slick finger slides against his crack.

The finger presses gently, stroking and slowly opening him as the man's stomach curls with yearning. He tries to be patient as the finger teases him a little, but his desire is too strong—he needs more. Unconsciously, he rocks backward against the fingers, seeking more pressure, wanting them inside him, and he grunts when the fingers slide away.

"So eager," the woman chides playfully. "I expected a little more patience from you, Edward."

"More." His voice is rough and he ducks his head, pressing his cheek to his shoulder with a long groan when one finger slips inside him. "Oh ... oh, God."

"More like that?" she asks, moving her finger slowly in and out as the man rocks backward to meet her hand.

"Fuck, yes. I don't need to be stretched any more," he says, trying not to plead.

"Easy," she urges, her other hand creeping between his legs. The man lets out a broken curse when her wet fingers meet his balls. "Just let me make you feel good."

"I'm ready," he says after a minute, clenching his teeth when she ignores him and instead adds a second finger.

His head is hanging forward when he speaks again. "Okay, I'm ready." He swears when she adds a third finger, clenching his eyes behind the blindfold and sighing as his body stretches and stings.

The man's body is trembling by the time he speaks a third time. "Please," he begs, unable to feel anything outside of the need to be filled. "Please, Isabella."

The woman sits back on her haunches and then leans forward again and up to press a soft kiss against the man's hip when he groans in protest. "Patience," she murmurs, a small smile playing over her lips.

Taking up the lube bottle, she slicks the dildo, enjoying the way the rubber feels beneath her hands. She climbs to her feet, stepping closer to the man. She steps into her heels again so she'll be tall enough to square her hips with the man's ass. She notes the way his back muscles tense when her hip brushes his hamstring, and his body jolts when she drizzles more lube between his cheeks.

"Christ," he grits out, biting his lip when she spreads the lube with slow firm strokes. His breaths come faster when he feels the woman's hands on his hips, knowing that she's aligning herself behind him.

She leans forward to scatter lazy kisses across the man's back, murmuring quietly against his skin until some of his tension begins to drain away.

"Relax, Edward," she reminds him, straightening back up to stand. "Remember how good my fingers felt inside you earlier. Do you have any idea how sexy you are like this?"

He shakes his head no, gripping the sheets with his fingers.

"You are," she assures him. "Your willingness to be vulnerable in order to get pleasure is very arousing. Your strength is incredibly sexy."

The man laughs breathlessly. "I'm blindfolded and being bent over the bed; how does that make me strong?"

She rocks her hips forward gently against his ass, tantalizing him with her touch. "You're confident enough to know that having a woman fuck you doesn't make you less of a man."

"I—" the man begins before he stops abruptly, making the woman frown.

"What is it?" she asks, leaning to the left and craning her neck to get a look at his face. Her concern increases when she sees that his lips are pressed in a thin line, a flush creeping over his neck and chest. "Edward," she prompts, "I need you to tell me what's going on in your head right now."

He nods, drawing a steadying breath before he replies. "I think I'd like to lie down. On my back, I mean," he says, his voice growing more certain. "I want to feel you that way, between my legs."

The dark-haired woman smiles, pleased that he trusts her enough to explain his desire. "Of course. Thank you for telling me that, Edward."

She steps back, tapping his hips with her fingers in a signal to move. The man lowers himself, his sigh barely audible when his chest meets the sheets, then rolls to the left, settling on his back with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. The woman makes a low sound of approval as she steps forward again, using her hands to urge him to scoot backward up the bed. When he's still again, she brings his knees up, watching them fall open with admiration.

"Mmm. Edward, you are so beautiful like this." She ghosts her fingers along the inside of his thighs, watching his chest rise and fall as his breaths steadily grow more rapid. "Your legs spread open for me ... this gorgeous ass." The woman runs her finger along the crease of his ass, making him shiver. "I wish you could see yourself right now."

Grasping the dildo at its base, she aligns their bodies once more, this time pressing forward to ease the tip of the toy inside him.

"Oh," the man breathes, his voice catching in his throat as pain sears through him. His eyes widen behind the blindfold, and his hands curl into fists as he fights to relax. Dimly, he remembers to push back against the toy to open himself, and he pulls in a long breath when he feels the toy move gradually deeper. "Oh, my fucking God."

The woman moves forward slowly, pressing her hips into the man's as gently as possible, and watching his every reaction closely. His mouth forms a perfect "o" of surprise, and sweat beads on his skin, gleaming in the lamplight. His breaths are shallow and quick, broken up by tiny moans that could be pain or pleasure.

She freezes, her hands firm on the man's hips. "Edward," she calls, making her voice gentle but firm to cut through whatever headspace the man has worked himself into. "Tell me how you're feeling."

The man says nothing for a long moment, his hands balling into fists as he pants. His struggle to remain calm against the pain is evident in his hoarse voice when he manages to reply. "I'm okay. I ... fucking hell. That's a lot bigger than your fingers."

"It is," she agrees, rubbing small circles into the skin over his hips. "Shall we keep going?"

"Yes. Fuck yes, please." He draws a long, shaky breath in and blows it out. "It's okay. I'm okay, really."

The woman nods, humming gently to let him know he has been heard. She trusts this man to be honest with her about this experience, just as she knows he trusts her to guide him through it. "All right. I'm going to move forward again now."

The man forces himself to exhale when she gently presses forward again breaching the ring of muscle inside him. It stings, oh God how it stings, but it's so good, too. He's flushed and trembling, his whole body on edge. The mix of pleasure and pain has his head swirling. The blindfold helps, letting him focus on the woman's voice and touch. He trusts her. His heart is thundering in his chest as her hips finally reach his inner thighs. She's all the way in now. She takes a moment to let him adjust, trailing her finger up and down his strong legs. The tickling touch is both soothing and arousing. It's just enough to distract him and help him relax.

The woman wasn't trying to flatter him when she told him she finds his strength arousing. And no matter what other women have told him, or what doubts have crept into his head, this man is strong. It takes more strength to admit your desires and go after them than to suppress them out of fear.

She reaches down and wraps her hand around his dick. Despite his earlier orgasm, the man is hard again. She slowly strokes up and down his cock, hoping the pleasure will help distract him from the discomfort. "Fuuuck." He groans, his hands scrabbling at the bedcovers for a moment before he grips them in his fists.

"Talk to me, Edward," she coaxes, watching him relax. "How do you feel?"

"Full. God, so full." She shifts the dildo just a fraction of an inch within him and he lets out a low groan. She pulls out a little more, feeling him tremble against her, then sets a slow rhythm, sliding in and out of him. "It's good. Fuck, I've imagined this so many times …"

The woman smiles at the admission and slides her hands along the back of his thighs, hooking them under his knees. She can move much more easily now, no longer fighting the resistance in his clenched body.

"Yes," she hisses, and she sees him smile. The pain he felt has become pleasure.

He takes a slow, deep breath, and she knows exactly when he surrenders to her completely. No longer tensing in anticipation of her thrusts, but welcoming them. She moves more fluidly now, sinking into him and retreating.

The man is flushed and still panting. He lets out a low laugh of relief when she rubs her thumbs against his knees. He knows he's splayed wide open, and he wonders what he looks like right now. He wishes he could watch her fuck him. That thought, and a particularly deep thrust, makes him moan low and long.

"You should see your cock right now, Edward," she says. "So hard, it's leaking at the tip. I want to taste it, suck it while I fuck you."

The sound he lets out is barely human. It's deep and visceral, primal almost. It's the sound of desperation and need, as old as time.

"You're doing so well," the woman croons, rewarding him with a swivel of her hips that makes his back bow up off the bed. "The way you take me is beautiful."

She can't stop staring at him, trying to catalogue every reaction he has. He's so abandoned, so willing to let go and revel in what he's feeling. Her eyes travel from the top of his head where his hair is growing damp with sweat, down over his wet, parted lips. She sees him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. She changes the rhythm and angle and he throws his head back, the flush on his chest deepening. She feels him start to fuck back against the dildo and she speeds up. His thighs are trembling against her hands and his breathing is growing quicker and shallower.

"I'm …" he says breathlessly. "I'm getting close."

Truthfully, so is she. Not close enough; without some direct stimulation she won't actually come, but it wouldn't take much to make it happen. Her muscles ache and her skin is damp from exertion, her breasts feel heavy and full, her nipples hard, aching peaks.

She braces herself against him and pulls his wide-spread legs higher, tilting his pelvis up. "I can't," he groans. "Isabella, I … I … _Fuck_. It's so …"

Her thighs are slapping against his, and she can see his cock bouncing on his stomach. "I want you to touch yourself, Edward," she says breathlessly. He reaches immediately to take himself in hand, his fist roughly moving over the hard length. She stills, and he whines with disappointment, his hand reluctantly slowing. "Keep your legs up. Hold out your hand, palm up."

She lets go of his legs when he complies, and leans over to reach for the bottle on the bed beside him. The man is puzzled, frowning slightly, and he flinches when she squirts a generous amount of lube into his hand. She stills his hand before he can move to slather it on his cock and leans forward, making him hiss.

It's awkward, bending forward like that when the toy is still buried inside of him, but the woman wants to taste him. His cock is tight against his belly, pre-cum smeared on his skin. She lifts him to her lips, swirling her tongue over the head. She loves the sound he makes when he feels the wet heat of her mouth, but she loves his disappointed groan when she pulls off even more. She guides his hand to his cock, and once his fist is stroking up and down she lets go, hooking her hands under his knees once again.

The man gasps when she begins to move; the dual sensations of fucking his own hand and being fucked by her are almost too much to process. He knows he's chanting, "More, more, more," but he isn't sure if it's in his head or aloud. As small as the dark-haired woman is, there is real force behind her hips. She drives into him, grazing his prostate when she leans forward slightly. The pleasure that spikes through him is unreal. His balls draw up, the tension in his lower belly and groin growing to an almost unbearable level.

The woman can't look away from him, her focus narrowing in on his face as she fucks him harder. "You're going to come so hard for me," she promises as she watches him struggle; he's so close, but he doesn't want to let go quite yet.

She puts more of her weight into fucking him and is rewarded when his back arches up off the bed again. The straps of the harness are biting into her thighs, and rubbing along her wet lips. The friction feels good, but it's not enough, not in the right place. More than her own pleasure though, she wants him to come. His fist is flying over his cock, twisting on the upstroke, squeezing on the downstroke, and she can see and feel every inch of his body trembling.

The man's head falls to the side, his free hand coming up to press his palm against his forehead. Abruptly, he rips off the blindfold, his blazing eyes meeting hers. The woman's hands tighten on his legs, driving in deeper.

"I'm fucking you, Edward," she says, her own chest heaving. She's staggered by the naked want in his gaze and the intimacy of staring into a man's eyes as she fucks him. It's never been so good before, so intense. "You're so fucking gorgeous like this. I want you to come for me. I need you to."

The man lets out a ragged moan, and she leans in just a little harder, seeing the exact moment he starts to fall apart. He grits his teeth, making the already strong lines of his jaw pop and his cheekbones hollow. It's unreal how beautiful he is taking his pleasure from her. She wants a picture of this, so she will never forget the way he looks in this moment.

The come arcs out of the man's cock, landing with a splatter against his belly and chest. He lets out a sound of pleasure so raw it sends a shiver down her spine. He is writhing against her, fucking her back wantonly and without shame. He is pure need and pleasure. The woman's whole body is exhausted, but she continues to fuck him through the orgasm, pushing against the resistance when his ass clenches rhythmically around the toy.

The man is out of his mind with pleasure, drunk on it, his head spinning as the sensations overwhelm him. There are white spots in his vision, and he's struggling to breathe; he briefly wonders if he'll black out. Even though the man's torso is streaked with come, his cock is still hard, leaking a little at the tip. He's never come so hard or for so long. The toy's movements within him are gentler, but still enough to make him twitch. He feels like his body has been turned inside out, his bones shattered, his muscles melted.

He can't take his eyes off the woman moving against him though. She's fucked him hard, and her skin is shimmering with sweat, her hair curling at her temple from the dampness. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes shining but slightly unfocused.

The dark-haired woman's hips gradually slow and finally still against him. She smiles when the man lets out a heavy gust of air. He smiles back, liking the way her eyes are sparkling at him, and the way one side of her mouth lifts higher than the other. His chest heaves as he struggles to breathe, and his muscles are sluggish and uncooperative. He can hardly move, but he twitches when she gently withdraws from him. She has to help lower his legs to the bed, his muscles are tight and cramped. He winces when he realizes his ass is sore. It's nothing he can't handle though, and he should be fine tomorrow.

It thrills him to know that he's been that well fucked.

The woman steps back, staggering for a moment before turning and sinking to the edge of the bed. She leans back, bracing her hands on the mattress and tilts her head back, her hair tumbling down her over her spine. The man can barely lift his body, but he does anyway, wanting to touch her. He's struck by the incongruity of the hard length between her thighs and the feminine swell of her hips and breasts. He finds it overwhelmingly beautiful.

"Thank you," he says, curling forward to press a kiss to her bare shoulder, his lips lingering. The words are soft, reverential. He can't tell her what the fulfillment of his fantasy means to him or how joyous and light he feels. How complete. Ten years of dreaming and wanting, aching and pining for this are over.

"You're welcome, Edward," she says softly, turning her head toward him. Their temples press together for a moment, and he runs his fingertips down her arm. They linger like that for a long moment, neither wanting to pull away. With a small shift, their lips meet, and the kiss lengthens, going on and on.

Eventually the woman sighs and shifts, forcing him to lift his head. She kicks off her high heels, flexing her toes for a moment in relief of being out of them. Her fingers fumble for the straps of the harness, arousal making her momentarily uncoordinated and clumsy. She's simultaneously relaxed and strung-tight, the pleasure of making the man come warring with her own need for release. He brushes her fingers out of the way, pausing for a moment to look the harness over, and then in a few quick movements it's loose around her hips, allowing her to lift up and slip it off. The woman tosses it on the bed beside them and turns to face him, trying to get a read on what he wants right now.

The man is covered in lube, come, and sweat. He should want nothing more than to get in the shower, but at the moment his only desire is to wrap his arms around the small, dark-haired woman beside him. He shifts on the bed, drawing her with him so they're both stretched out fully. He rolls half onto her and lowers his lips to hers. She responds immediately, her lips meeting his eagerly, continuing their earlier kiss. Neither of them cares about the mess they're making of each other's bodies.

The woman smiles against his mouth, liking the way he kisses her. It's warm and affectionate, almost playful. She slides her fingers through his hair and pulls him closer. They kiss for a long time, mouths moving and meeting as if they've done this a thousand times before. She likes the low sounds he makes in the back of his throat and the way his hand tangles in her hair, tugging gently.

The man likes the way she tilts her head so he can kiss her deeper and the softness of her lips. He likes the teasing little nips she takes with her teeth, and the way the tip of her tongue curls around his.

"I came twice," he murmurs in her ear when he finally pulls back. "I think it's your turn, isn't it?"

"Tonight is about you," she reminds him gently.

He shrugs and rubs his thumb against the side of her long neck. "You more than fulfilled my fantasies."

"That is what I'm here for," she says teasingly.

"Yes." He nods his agreement. "And you getting off will be the perfect way to wrap up the evening."

The woman presses a kiss to his cheek and nods. She's surprised. Most of her clients are so focused on their own pleasure that hers is an afterthought. They like that she's easily aroused, and that she orgasms—that has never been a struggle for her—but she can't think of one who would have offered to get her off if they were in this man's position.

He shifts to the side, propping himself up on his elbow while she lays on her back. The flat of his hand moves down her ribs to the curve of her hip and then to her thigh. "Will you tell me what you like?"

"Yes."

The man's hand is gentle as it moves over her soft skin, pulling her right leg up to rest on his so she's open to him. His hand slides up her thigh, and the contrast of that light movement with the roughness of his calloused fingertips makes her squirm. His touch is teasing at first, slowly working her up, and she lets out a low moan when he finally slips his fingers between her lips.

"Did it make you wet when you fucked me?" he asks as his thumb slides across her clit.

The woman nods, feeling heat grow in her lower belly.

"How much would it have taken for you to get off while you were doing it?"

"Not much," she admits. "Giving you pleasure was very arousing."

A groan rumbles in the man's chest at her words, and he dips a finger inside her, sliding in easily. She wasn't flattering him with her earlier statement. Fucking him was the single most arousing experience she's had in her years doing this job.

"I would have loved to watch you come while you fucked me."

His hand moves away, and she lets out a whimper of disappointment, but he soothes her with a quiet murmur. Shifting backward, he props himself up against the headboard and lifts her easily so she's seated between his thighs, her back against his chest. His hand returns immediately to her pussy.

With his arms and legs around her like this, she's aware of how tall the man is, and of the broadness of his shoulders. She feels his lips on her neck, the teasing nibbles making her shiver. His touch grows rougher as a second finger joins the first, and her own low, desperate sounds shock her as her head lolls back on his shoulder.

Her hands settle on his strong thighs, the crisp hairs tickling her palms as she drags them slowly up and down, her eyes closing. The fingers of the man's right hand move in and out of her pussy, the movements sure and steady, while his left thumb drags over her clit, making her buck.

She doesn't know what it is about this man, but his touch is setting her on fire.

"I wish I could tell you how good you made me feel tonight."

She laughs breathlessly, her hips rocking against his hands. "Believe me, I could tell."

"No, not physically." His fingers curl inside her, and she lets out a choked gasp. Fuck, his fingers are so good. "I felt good mentally. I've been fantasizing about this for nearly ten years now. No matter how many times I fucked a woman, or jerked off with a toy in my ass, I never felt the release I craved."

His teeth sink gently into the soft skin where neck and shoulder meet. She shudders, a hot streak of pleasure tearing through her. "They didn't give me the psychological satisfaction. I've been imagining this for a decade. Wondering what it would be like to come with something ... some_one_ in my ass. Wondering how it would feel to have a woman take me."

Her voice is breathy. "And now?"

The man leans forward, his forehead pressing to the back of her head briefly. Although they aren't looking at each other, this position is strangely intimate.

"Now I know," he says simply. "I know that wanting this is as natural as breathing. There's nothing wrong with me."

Snapping out of a haze of desire, the woman covers his hands with her own. She hates that he ever had those doubts.

"Of course, there isn't," she reassures him. She cranes her head to see him, and he presses his forehead to her temple, his lips brushing softly against her cheekbone as he speaks.

"I needed to experience it for myself before I could be sure," he explains, and she nods in understanding.

"I'm glad I could give that to you." She lets go, and his hands begin to move again, the desire rising and rushing through her the moment his touch resumes.

The man speaks quietly in her ear. "Let me give this to you."

He grows quiet then, focusing on her. His cock is hardening again, pinned between their bodies; he can feel the pressure as her hips shift restlessly against him. He pushes his need aside, allowing her pleasure to take precedence. He knows she is just doing her job, but she's given him something no other woman has, and he's grateful. An orgasm for her is the least he can do.

One of the woman's arms comes up to wrap around the back of his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. She is slick and open to his fingers; he can feel her thighs trembling when his thumb hits just the right spot on her clit. He isn't gentle with her, though she knows if she gave him the slightest hint she was uncomfortable, his touch would instantly soften. She likes the rough way he's manhandling her body and the confidence of his touch.

She cups one of her breasts in her other hand, her thumb toying with the stiff peak of her nipple.

"Yesss," he hisses in her ear as he watches, his hands moving faster when he feels her body tense against his.

"Edward," she pants, the familiar buildup rushing over her.

"I want you to come," he whispers. "Come as hard as I did, Isabella. I need to see that."

The dark-haired woman rarely feigns pleasure with a client; she's more likely to tone them down to make them prettier and more appealing. But this is raw and all her. This is the way she comes when she's in bed with a man she's dating or alone. This is the way she feels when she's utterly and completely herself.

She's hardly even thinking anymore as she rocks against him, seeking out his touch and the pleasure it brings. By the time the orgasm hits, she's mindless, falling apart with one curl of his strong fingers.

The woman's head is whirling, her body trembling in the strong circle of the man's arms. She can do nothing but gasp and struggle to breathe for a moment, while he gently lifts her and lays her on the bed beside him. His palm is warm as it settles onto her stomach, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto her skin.

Drifting, untethered—except for his arms around her—she wonders how it is that his touch has brought out this side of her, when she was the one who was supposed to be teaching him something new.

The man tucks her closer, his breathing deep and steady, although she knows he's still awake. Her eyes are closed as she turns to him, blindly seeking his lips. They meet hers immediately, soft and sweet, and she loses herself in the kiss.

* * *

**Notes: **Thank you so much for reading; we really hope you enjoyed Assward and Tartella! There will be a bit more of their story to come. It will be about a 2-3 chapter continuation. We have it mostly written, and it'll post weekly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:** We're so thrilled that you enjoyed Assward and Tartella. Thanks for all of the sweet reviews. There will be three chapters, including this one, to tell the rest of their story.

Huge thanks to Alice's White Rabbit for her amazing beta skills.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Sticky and sated, the man and the woman drift off to sleep in the big hotel bed. When they awake a few hours later, they laugh as they peel their bodies apart and then shower together with wandering hands and roaming kisses.

Afterward, the man goes home while the woman stays at the hotel, continuing her charade of being in town on business.

She crawls into the bed, taken aback when she realizes she wishes the man hadn't left. She misses his warmth, his broad shoulders, and his strong arms around her. There was a hint of wistfulness in their kiss goodbye, but both of them know that nothing more can come of this. All roads will eventually lead to disappointment.

**~oOo~**

In the weeks and months that follow the night she spent with Edward Cullen, the dark-haired woman often finds her thoughts drifting to him.

She continues to see clients, though she finds that she has no particular desire to peg other men. Both times she tries, she's disappointed; the dynamic just isn't the same. She turns her regular clients with that predilection over to someone else and begins to decline new clients requesting the service. She doesn't mind fucking women with a strap-on; that's a totally different experience. And she doesn't mind letting men fuck her.

Her favorite clients are probably Riley and Garrett, two successful executives with wives and families, who are secretly in love with each other. They either can't—or won't—admit their feelings, even to themselves, and so the woman works as a conduit. Instead of fucking each other, Riley and Garrett fuck her. Sometimes they even make love through her. The three of them have been doing this for years. It's a strange dynamic, but the woman likes to think she's helping Riley and Garrett connect in the only way they can.

One night, they lie tangled up together; the woman curled between them. The men usually leave shortly after sex but tonight decided to stay. It will be a while before they can see each other again; in a few hours, they will wake up to fuck again. They've paid for the woman's time, and she doesn't mind; there are worse things than falling asleep between two handsome men.

Tonight, though, the dark-haired woman is restless. It's a rare thing for her; she's always been able to sleep like the dead. She crawls out of bed, crossing the room to stand by the window, and stares out at the city skyline. Her mind wanders, and a small, secret part of her imagines that it's Edward Cullen in the bed behind her, though she's in a different hotel on the other side of the city. She doesn't know why she can't shake the thought of the auburn-haired man, but the memory of their night together remains lodged firmly in her head.

The woman knows the impossibility of seeing Edward as anything but a client. She dates infrequently and never for long. Men rarely are comfortable dating a woman in her profession. She doesn't blame them; she would be no different if the roles were reversed.

She tried it once—dating a client—and it ended in tears and hurt feelings. It crosses her mind for a brief moment that she doesn't have to continue working. She hates the idea of leaving her job for a man, though—that rarely ends well either—and she does have a condo mortgage and car payment to consider. Her savings aren't insignificant; she doesn't _have_ to find other work immediately. But what would she do with herself?

The woman has always known she wouldn't do this forever, but she's still young and beautiful enough that she could continue for a while. Men may like their women young, but twenty-six isn't long in the tooth yet, even for an escort. The career plan she had before she started this job is no longer an option, and short of traveling, she isn't sure what she'd want to do.

At odd moments, she finds herself visiting Edward Cullen's website. It isn't hard to track him down. That _is_ his real name, and he does indeed make custom violins. She is drawn to the photo of him on the website. It's professional quality, but not posed, and shows him hand carving a piece of wood. His fingers appear strong on the chisel and she finds it amazing that those strong, capable hands create such delicate pieces. The woman knows violins well and the instruments Edward makes are works of art. She played a Stradivarius once, and while the sound was unequaled, she thinks Edward Cullen's violins may be more beautiful. She'd love to get her hands on one of his creations. Her fingers itch to touch one, to hear the sound it would make.

Even more, her hands itch to touch _him_. To hear the sounds he makes.

**~oOo~**

The man is similarly affected by the experience.

His memory of the night he spent with Isabella remains fresh in his mind as the days pass. He sits in his shop, listening to clients as they describe what they want, carving beautiful things with his hands. He spends time with his friends. He goes on dates and sleeps with several women. He even finds an online site where he meets a woman interested in pegging him. His afternoon with the little blonde named Chelsea is by no means bad; Chelsea has experience with pegging, and she makes the man come so hard his toes curl. He can't seem to recreate the way he felt when he was with Isabella, though. He longs for the odd undercurrent of energy that flowed between them during their single night together.

The auburn-haired man's experience with Isabella changed him. The lingering questions in his mind were put to rest. He feels comfortable with his desires now. The man enjoys fucking women very much. He also knows that at some point he'll want to experience being fucked again. Pegging isn't something he needs on a daily basis, or even very often. Ten years of wondering about it made it nearly an obsession, but now he knows that pegging will be something he indulges in occasionally. He can't help wanting it to happen with Isabella.

The man considers hiring her again, but something makes him hesitate. He wants something ... more with her, and is uncomfortable with the knowledge that she will be paid to be with him. Though he believes that there was something unique about the experience they shared, he has nagging doubts. No matter what he felt during their night together, he can't be sure she felt the same way or even that the experience was genuine. The man is realistic. Isabella is an escort; she's paid to make men feel like they are something special. It is likely that every man who hires her leaves feeling that way.

Before he left Isabella that night, the auburn-haired man considered asking her out, but his doubts stopped his tongue. Though it was disappointing to simply walk away, the man would rather have the memory of that one night than that of a failed relationship. He's not a jealous man, and he likes to consider himself open-minded, especially when it comes to sex. He also knows that the woman's career will cause problems in any relationship they try to create.

So the man works, he dates, he spends time with friends, and he tries not to let the memory of that night color his interactions. He fails.

He wakes up some mornings hard and aching, knowing he's dreamt of Isabella. He remembers the way her lips felt under his, and the slow slide of her tongue when she kissed him. He remembers the way her pussy opened beneath his touch, the way her thighs trembled, and the low sound of hunger she made in her throat as his fingers moved. The man dreams about fucking Isabella and wonders how the heat of her pussy would feel on his cock. He imagines feeling her stiffen underneath him when she comes, her body pulsing around his while her raspy voice calls out his name.

There are few things he hasn't imagined doing to her.

When he wakes from his dreams of the dark-haired woman, bringing himself pleasure is not satisfying, even when he uses the dildo she gave him, remembering the way she fucked him. His hands tremble when he gets out of bed, and it takes time to settle them enough to perform the delicate work that violin-making requires. When he sits at his workbench, he remembers the way the woman's eyes lit up when he told her what he did for a living, and he wonders if she is a musician. He never had the chance to ask.

He doubts he ever will.

**~oOo~**

"Bella?" a voice asks, and the woman lifts her head from her phone, staring blankly at her boss for a moment before it registers that he is trying to get her attention.

She shifts in her seat, aware that she was lost in daydreams of Edward again. She crosses her legs and sits up straighter. "Sorry, Emmett."

The dimple in Emmett's cheek appears briefly as he shakes his dark head. "You've seemed distracted lately."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes again, knowing she needs to pull it together.

Ostensibly, Emmett owns a modeling agency and Bella is one of his models. It's a cover that works well with what she really does. Occasionally, she works the modeling shoots. They keep her portfolio up-to-date and help disguise what she's really paid for. Many of the women who work for Emmett are models and nothing more. His business is discreet and well-run, and she feels lucky to be working with him. Bella knows that she's part of a minority of women in the sex trade, who both like their job and are treated well. That's not to say she's never had a bad experience, but by and large, it's been good. Her self-esteem is healthy, her love of sex genuine.

Emmett is an excellent man to work for. He treats his escorts with respect and pays them very well. He screens potential clients carefully, and he loathes any kind of violence toward women. Bella suspects there's a story there involving his wife, Rosalie, but she's never asked. As kind as he is, Emmett is her boss, and he has high standards. Bella doesn't want to let him down.

"I suppose I have been a bit out of it," she admits as he eyes her speculatively.

"You aren't thinking about quitting, are you?"

"No." She shakes her head, but for one brief moment, she wonders how he'd respond if she said yes.

He nods, and he gives her another long, searching look. "You'll tell me if there's anything I can do, won't you?"

"Yes," she promises, meaning it.

They get back to business, discussing a new client with political connections who requires a level of discretion unlike any Bella has experienced previously. When they finish, she stands to leave, but Emmett stops her.

"Rosalie and I are having a cocktail party this weekend. You should come."

Bella is surprised; she rarely socializes with the boss and his wife outside of work. She wonders if there's someone that he wants her to meet, but Emmett doesn't elaborate.

"When?" she asks.

"Saturday night, seven o'clock."

She scans through her schedule, surprised to find that she's free that night; she's booked most Saturdays. "Sure," she agrees, "I'll be there."

**~oOo~**

Bella arrives at the party at the same time as several other guests, and Emmett's wife greets her warmly. Rosalie isn't an effusively friendly woman, but she's always been cordial, and the two women get along well. Bella drinks and mingles, falling into the easy rhythm of polite small talk. It's rare that she attends parties like this without being on the arm of a client, and she's surprised by the number of men who vie for her attention. She wonders if they would look at her differently if they knew the truth about her career, and she chuckles to herself.

Two hours into the party, Bella still has no idea why Emmett invited her, but he makes no move to introduce her to anyone in particular. She escapes onto the wide, stone balcony, drink in hand, fishing in her purse for a cigarette. She lights up and takes a long drag, liking the way the smoke looks against the lights of the city when she exhales.

The cigarette is almost finished when her skin prickles suddenly. A part of her is unsurprised when she hears her name spoken. Her heart leaps when she recognizes the voice.

"Isabella?" the man asks, and she turns to face him.

He looks shocked to see her, but there's a warmth in his eyes that she likes. She stands up, absently putting out the cigarette beneath the sole of her shoe and mentally apologizing to whoever will clean Emmett's balcony.

"Edward." Her voice is almost breathy, and she feels her heart speed up.

The man stares at her for a long moment, drinking in the sight of her. She's even more beautiful than he remembers, and he feels his body respond.

"Come here often?" he jokes, and they both smile, remembering his words to her at the hotel bar. He continues more seriously. "I didn't expect to see you here."

She nods. "I was surprised Emmett invited me. He rarely invites those of us who work for him."

"I've never seen you at his parties before."

"Are you close friends?" she asks in surprise. As far as she's aware, Emmett does not allow his personal and professional lives to mingle.

"Yes."

They're silent for a long time, both wanting to say something but unsure of _what_ to say. Edward walks over to the balcony and rests his forearms on the wide stone ledge. Bella is sure the movement is unconscious, but when his ass juts toward her, she remembers being on her knees, Edward gasping as she presses her tongue against his skin. Heat travels through her, making her crave another cigarette.

"You didn't call me for a repeat of our night together," she says finally, her voice raspy.

Edward nods, still looking out at the city. "I thought about it."

"A part of me wishes you had," she admits.

He turns to look at her. "Just a part?"

Bella shrugs, feeling helpless. "The rest of me knows that no matter how good it was, we'd both be disappointed when it was over."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

He stands up and walks over to the woman who has been occupying his thoughts. He stops right in front of her, too close for social conventions. She can feel the heat from his body and smell his cologne.

"Did any part of you want to see me again as something other than a client?" Edward almost surprises himself with the question, but he needs to know.

"Yes." Bella's hand grazes his forearm, and they both react. Her lips part and Edward's head lowers a little. With their eyes locked on each other, the tension builds, and both of them know how easy it would be to close the distance and kiss.

Edward's heart hammers in his chest as he fights the urge. Raising his hand, he brushes Bella's cheek with the backs of his fingers and her eyes flutter closed.

"This is a bad idea, Edward," she murmurs.

"I know."

Edward pulls back at the last second with a low groan of frustration. He takes a seat on the chair nearby, one hand coming up to run through his hair.

Bella's hands clench into fists. She wants to smooth Edward's hair with her fingers, to soothe him. She wants ... more. To kiss and lick and suck and fuck him, but she knows those things are out of the question.

"I had to know," Edward finally says. "I had to know if you felt something that night."

"Of course I did." Bella's smile is soft and sad.

Edward shrugs as he looks at her. His voice is surprisingly gentle when he speaks again. "I am realistic about what you do, Isabella. I know it is your job to make your clients feel special; like they're the only ones."

She nods. "That's true. But I can't deny that I felt something with you beyond what I typically do."

"I don't know if I'm glad to hear that or not," Edward admits. "There's no way for us to work, is there?"

"Probably not." Bella's voice is regretful. "If circumstances were different …" Her words trail off, but Edward doesn't need Bella to finish her thought. They both know that if they could, they would see where this attraction would go. They are both sure it would take them far, and even surer that, given their current situation, it would inevitably fall apart.

"That's a shame," he says quietly, and she nods her agreement.

"Yes."

The silence stretches between them for a long moment. They're both hesitant to leave, but unsure of what to say.

"I saw your website," she finally says, taking a seat in the chair beside him.

Edward's mouth turns up at the corners; he likes the idea of her seeking him out in some small way. "You did, huh?"

"I'm impressed with your work."

"You know violins?"

Bella nods. "I went to Julliard for a year."

"Just a year?"

She swallows hard. It's been almost eight years, and she still finds it difficult to talk about. The curiosity in Edward's eyes makes her want to tell him the story.

"It was stupid, one of those fluke accidents. My hand was slammed in a car door." She bends the fingers on her left hand reflexively, remembering the pain. Sometimes in bad weather, it still aches.

Edward leans forward, taking her hand, his rough fingertips running gently across her skin. He cradles her small hand between his much larger two, and Bella feels herself flush with heat at his touch.

He hadn't intended to touch Bella, but her remembered pain is palpable. He wanted only to soothe her, but he likes the feel of her hand in his. He remembers those delicate hands moving over—and inside—his body. Edward shifts in his seat, his cock growing hard. There is nothing he'd like better in that moment than to feel Bella's hands on him again. Except maybe to know that she'll stay afterward, and maybe more nights after that.

"How bad was the accident?" he asks, trying to distract himself from his impossible thoughts.

Bella's face is in shadow, and it's difficult to see her expression, but the way her fingers suddenly grip his tells him everything.

"Bad," she murmurs. "Two of the fingers were badly broken, and the other two sustained fractures. It took time for the breaks to heal and then months of physical therapy. By the time my hand was functional, I had lost my scholarship. Even if I hadn't, I lost some of the dexterity and strength in my fingers. I just couldn't play at that level anymore."

Edward bends slightly, lifting Bella's hand to his lips. She feels them brush, soft and warm, over her fingers in mute apology for what she suffered. He understands. Her heart clenches at his tender gesture.

"Do you still play?" he asks.

"Sometimes. I did at first, constantly, hoping I'd get the strength and dexterity back, but it never returned. Over time, I began to play less often. It's been months since I picked up my violin."

Edward's heart aches for her, knowing what it must have been like to give up dreams of a career as a musician. The unspoken question lingers between them. He wonders how she went from being a student at Julliard to becoming a high-end escort.

Bella looks at him steadily for a long moment before she acknowledges what she is sure he must be wondering.

"My scholarship for school was only partial. Between the loans and my medical bills …" she shrugs, her voice trailing off. "My friend Charlotte was already working for Emmett, and she knew I needed the money. I figured why not? I like sex, and I knew I could make a lot of money doing something I enjoyed. I'm good at my job."

"Yes, you are," Edward says with a faint smile, and she chuckles softly.

Bella's mood has turned melancholy, and she turns the tables rather than dwelling uncomfortably on her past. "Tell me about yourself, Edward. How did you come to make violins?"

"I learned woodworking from my grandfather as a child. I made my first instrument at the age of thirteen. I played guitar and piano when I was small, but I truly fell in love with music when I picked up the violin for the first time. The only thing I loved more than playing instruments was building them. After I graduated from high school, I moved to the city to apprentice with a master maker, learning everything I could. I opened my shop five years ago, and it took off from there."

"That's wonderful."

Bella looks at him with rapt attention, and he flushes at her praise. Suddenly, Edward wishes he could show her his favorite violin and see it in her hands. He can picture her delicate fingers moving over it, working the bow the way she'd worked his body. His cock throbs at the image.

"I wish …" Edward says gruffly, his voice trailing off as his hand drops away.

The fingertips of Bella's free hand come up to skim over Edward's cheek, and he unconsciously leans in to her touch. The crackling tension between them flares again. Slowly, Edward raises one hand to ghost an index finger along the hollow of Bella's throat. The whispering touch makes her mouth go dry with desire. It takes everything within Edward to stop himself from pulling Bella to him roughly and kissing the soft curve of her mouth.

Bella's breaths are shallow, strained as she struggles to take air in. Edward's eyes are dark and hungry, promising her things she can't have.

The moment is interrupted when Rosalie steps out onto the balcony. "I'm sorry." Rosalie's eyes flick between the man and the woman, taking in the tension between them, and she wonders what their history is. She finds it interesting that they pull apart slowly, Bella's hand moving from Edward's cheek almost reluctantly; Edward's hand releasing Bella's with a lingering caress. "I didn't realize anyone was still out here."

"I'm sorry," Bella says, standing. "We'll go."

Together, they wish Rosalie goodnight. The party is nearly over, the last few guests leaving, and Emmett is nowhere in sight.

Edward and Bella stop on the sidewalk outside of the building, turning to face each other.

Bella knows that if she asks Edward to go home with her, he will.

Edward knows that if he kisses Bella, she will respond.

Neither of them moves. Instead, they stare at each other for a long time before Bella finally exhales and gives him a small, sad smile. "I should go."

Edward nods, knowing it's best that they part. "Me, too."

Bella moves to leave but turns abruptly and leans in, rising up on her toes to brush her lips against the corner of Edward's mouth.

She wants to taste him so badly, she aches for it.

He wants to touch her so badly, he can taste it.

"I wish, too," Bella says, echoing his words up on the balcony.

She wishes she was still a violinist. She wishes she had never taken the job as an escort. But mostly, she wishes that she could make Edward hers.

Bella walks away, hailing a cab as soon as she sees one, refusing to look back. If she sees him standing there waiting for her, she'll cave.

Edward watches her leave, wishing she'd turn around one last time to look at him, but she doesn't.

Bella has never resented her job until now.

* * *

**Notes: **Well, unfortunately, it's not going to be an easy road for those two. We're eager to know what you think of the chapter, and how you think things might go between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes: **Massive thanks to Alice's White Rabbit for her amazing beta skills. Thank you all for your sweet reviews. They have been so supportive, and we are so glad you like Assward and Tartella's story so much.

* * *

**~ Something More~**

Bella changes out of her dress when she gets home and pulls her violin case from the closet. The familiar scent that rises from the case when she opens it makes her eyes sting. She runs her hands slowly over the instrument, the pads of her fingers skimming the polished wood as she remembers the feel of Edward's skin under her hand. She misses playing, but right now, she wishes it was Edward's body instead.

Bella picks up the violin, tucks it under her chin, and lifts the bow. She can't have Edward, but she'll play and pretend that it's an adequate substitute. Her fingers tremble slightly as she begins, but she closes her eyes, imagining she's playing for the green-eyed man who she'll never have. The song begins slowly, incrementally building to a frenzied crescendo before segueing into something sweet and mournful. The last note vibrates in the air as she lowers the instrument into the velvet-lined case, unaware of the tears wetting her cheeks.

**~oOo~**

In the following weeks, Bella attempts to put Edward from her mind as she focuses on her new client. Jane is the deputy mayor of the city, the first woman to hold the position, and a closet lesbian. It's risky for Jane to hire an escort but less risky than attempting to date. She's an eager client and appreciative of Bella's skill and discretion.

Bella goes three weeks before she picks up her violin again. She plays again a week later. The time between her sessions shortens until she's playing almost daily. It's been years since Bella played like this, but she finds herself unable to stop. She isn't sure if it's the connection to Edward or a re-awakened passion in making music, but it consumes her.

After one evening with Jane, a thought pops into Bella's head that she can't seem to shake.

Could she make a living as a violin instructor? Her injured hand may no longer be up to the rigors of playing at a concert level, but she's still very accomplished, and her body is holding up well to daily practicing. Bella's mind wanders as she rides home in a taxi, imagining giving lessons and quitting her job as an escort.

She isn't entirely sure that the desire has to do with Edward. It's not solely for him, that much she knows. He may have inspired her to embrace her musical talent again, and she can admit that she's considered the idea of showing up to his shop and telling him she's free to date. The thought thrills her.

There's also something deep down, though; a yearning for music that consumes her for the first time in eight long years. The desire to play is simply a part of who she is. It's what drives her to research the possibilities and make tentative plans.

**~oOo~**

The money Jane pays for Bella's services over the following months is more than enough for Bella to pay off the rest of her mortgage and the loan for the car she rarely uses. It's enough that she can quit, if she wants, and teach violin.

Bella dreams, she plays every evening, and she hopes.

Finally, the day comes when she takes a seat across from Emmett and speaks the words. "I want to quit."

Her boss doesn't seem surprised, and if he's disappointed by losing his best escort, he hides it well. Emmett asks about Bella's plans and sounds genuinely happy about her idea to take up the violin again. He knows the entire story of her injury and subsequent recovery and understands how desperately she's missed it.

As Bella says goodbye to her clients, she feels a bit wistful. She'll miss Jane's tender touch and being pinned between Riley and Garrett, soaking in the love they can't express for each other. She _will_ miss being an escort, but it's time to move on. She's ready.

Bella promises to stay in touch with Emmett and means it. She can easily see them being friends. And then she walks out the door of his office into her new future. It's frightening when she realizes she has no guarantees of success, but it's exciting, too. Hard work has never stopped her from going after what she wants.

She's so busy over the next several months that's she's hardly aware of how quickly time is passing. Her list of students grows, and her confidence increases. She makes far less money than she did as an escort, but with prudent budgeting, it's enough.

Bella has little time to date, though she has the opportunity now. She misses sex; it feels strange to go without it after so many years of constant access. She still thinks of Edward. She thinks of him when she brings herself to orgasm and is surprised to realize that her most frequent fantasy is of sliding inside him, fucking him until he cries out in ecstasy.

But she still doesn't go to him. Bella thinks about it sometimes, wondering why she's so hesitant. She can admit that part of it is fear of rejection, or that he might be with someone else. Maybe there's another woman fulfilling his deepest fantasy. A woman who loves him. A woman he doesn't have to pay.

**~ oOo ~**

Edward thinks of Isabella often in those months after the party. He still dreams of her and imagines all the things he could have said and done differently before he let her walk away. He thinks of her when he takes himself in hand and when he slides the dildo inside himself; her name is on his tongue when he comes, though he bites his lip to keep himself from speaking.

He attends several more of Emmett's parties, hoping to see Isabella. She never shows. He wants to demand that Emmett give him Isabella's number. He imagines calling her, asking that she quit her job. Those thoughts aren't fair, though, and they are not right. Isabella may have taken the job as an escort to pay the bills, but Edward has a feeling that she loves it. And he cannot ask a woman he hardly knows to find a new career simply because he can't handle her current one.

When a striking, dark-haired woman approaches him in a coffee shop, Edward smiles. She's tall and slim with warm hazel eyes and a serene smile. Edward buys her an espresso and shares his biscotti, enjoying her lilting voice and obvious intelligence as they begin to get to know one another.

"I'm Edward," he tells her, belatedly extending a hand over the café table and grinning when she grips his fingers in hers.

"I'm Angela," she replies. She nibbles her lip for a moment before speaking again. "I'd love to take you out for dinner."

"I'd like that." Edward smiles again at the flush of pleasure that colors her cheeks.

Angela is a trauma surgeon. The long hours she works make her free times sporadic, which suits Edward well. He enjoys the time they spend together, but he's leery of anything becoming too serious. Angela is also surprisingly kinky in bed. She enjoys trying new things and is an enthusiastic, generous lover. Sometimes, she reminds Edward of Isabella, both in looks and demeanor. Angela's eyes are free of the shadows of pain that Edward glimpsed in Isabella's, though, and her past isn't colored with loss and disappointment.

After a few weeks, Edward feels brave enough to broach the subject of pegging with Angela. Though it's something she's never done, she's willing to try. Both she and Edward enjoy the experience. Edward relishes the feeling of Angela's body pressed against his back, the long, slow slide of the dildo in his ass, her low murmur of encouragement in his ear. It all feels so _good_. Yet Edward can't help but compare the experience with Angela to his night with Isabella. It's not the sex that is lacking, but the _connection_ he felt with the escort that he craves.

For everything she does right, Angela is found wanting.

**~ oOo ~**

In his spare time, Edward begins to build a violin with Isabella in mind; the project quickly becomes an obsession. He finds himself staying late in his shop, painstakingly crafting the instrument after hours. By the time he's halfway finished, he suspects he'll never see Isabella again, but he can't bring himself to stop. He spends hours lovingly sanding every millimeter and meticulously applying the hand-rubbed finish, imagining that his hands are touching Isabella's skin.

He feels both relief and disappointment when he finishes the piece. He traces the instrument with his fingers, seeing Isabella's sinuous curves in its shape, the mahogany and walnut highlights of her hair reflected in the wood's tones. Edward knows he will never sell the violin, though he would give it to Isabella, if she wanted it. If he had a chance to. Instead, it will remain in his possession as a testament to his skill and his passion. He thinks that it is the most beautiful instrument he has ever made.

Edward yearns to hear Isabella draw the bow across its strings. He fits the instrument under his own chin instead, intent upon playing; he must, to test the sound quality. The violin's sound rivals its looks in beauty, the notes warm and rich and clear. The music makes something in Edward's chest ache, though, and he sets it aside when he's done.

**~ oOo ~**

Edward and Angela are dining with Emmett and Rosalie when the topic of another party is raised. Edward feels guilty for being disappointed that he'll have to bring Angela along but knows that he is trapped; not asking her to join him is out of the question.

As he dresses for the party later that week, he smoothes down his shirt and straightens his cuffs with nervous fingers. He can't shake the feeling that he might see Isabella tonight at the party, and he dreads the idea of her seeing him with Angela.

Edward's apprehension is rewarded when Isabella appears twenty minutes after he and Angela arrive. His heart pounds when he sees the escort, his eyes unable to leave her body. Isabella's mouth forms a small 'o' of surprise when she sees Edward, and he feels his face color at her expression. Her eyes move intently over him, drinking in his appearance as if she has been thirsting for him. Edward can barely tear his gaze from her as Emmett and Rosalie make the introductions, and he savors the syllables of her shortened name on his tongue. "_Bella_," Edward he says to himself, liking the way the name feels on his tongue.

Heat creeps up Edward's neck when he realizes that he has been pegged by the women standing on either side of him. His cock twitches inside his pants, growing hard at the thought. He shifts his weight and jams one hand in his pocket, the other clutching his glass of wine. He realizes once more how much Angela resembles the escort he spent one night with, but his eyes linger on Bella for twice as long.

He tries to greet Bella as he would a casual acquaintance but falters badly. He is too eager to touch her outstretched hand, and his grasp lingers for a moment too long.

Bella's fingers tremble when they reach for Edward, and she notices the way her hand fits perfectly inside his warm grip. She tries to keep her face empty of expression, but she's afraid her eyes give her away every time she glances at the woman at Edward's side.

_Angela._ Jealousy tastes like ashes in Bella's mouth, unfamiliar and unwanted.

For her part, Angela is oblivious, chatting warmly with the group about mundane things, unaware of the tension between the man she accompanied to the party and the woman he hired to fuck him.

Emmett, however, is very aware. He can't stop glancing between his friend and his former employee, noticing Edward's discomfort and Bella's irritation. Unfortunately, when another guest calls out to him and Rosalie, they're forced to leave the awkward trio.

Angela fills in the bulk of the conversation, while Edward and Bella stand by, stiff and awkward.

Edward shifts subtly closer to Bella, imagining he can feel the heat of her body through his thin dress shirt.

Bella wonders what Edward would say if she told him she's switched careers and is a violin instructor now.

The words seem lodged at the back of Bella's throat, and instead, she nods politely and sips her wine. Edward shifts away from her when Angela takes his arm, smiling as she tells them stories about the hospital where she works. It's only when a phone rings that the strange, stilted conversation halts. Angela digs through her purse, excusing herself to answer it.

Edward turns his eyes toward Bella when they are alone. Her dress leaves her collarbone bare, and he imagines dragging his tongue slowly over it, tasting her skin.

"You look good," he says, his voice gruff.

Bella swallows hard, her eyes raking over Edward's body, wondering how it would feel to be pinned beneath him as he fucks her.

"You, too." Bella's voice is breathy and Edward jams his hand in his pocket again.

Neither of them knows what else to say. Angela returns, rushed and apologetic as she explains she's been called in for emergency surgery. She and Edward tell each other goodbye while Bella escapes, fleeing to the restroom without a word.

Edward is surprised to find Bella gone when he turns back. He scans the crowd, frowning when she's nowhere to be found. He wanders through the party, trying to appear casual as he searches for her. He expects to find her on the balcony and is stumped when she isn't there. Edward realizes as he wanders that he is unsure of what he'll say if he finds Bella and pauses in the hallway to gather his wits.

Bella stands in the bathroom, her arms braced on the countertop, wondering why her body is trembling. She can't understand why it matters so much to her that Edward is here with someone else. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut against the image of Angela fucking Edward, cursing softly at the thought of their long limbs tangling together.

In the hallway, Edward leans against the wall, debating whether he should leave or not, when he realizes that Bella may have slipped out of the party without his noticing. As he pushes himself off the wall to go, the bathroom door swings open, and Edward and Bella find themselves standing face to face.

It is impossible to tell who moves first. Edward's hands clamp down on Bella's hips, and Bella's hands grip Edward's shirtfront as they push and pull one another into the bathroom. Edward kicks the door shut while Bella reaches with her free hand for the lock, their motions sending them crashing together and back into the door.

Their kiss is fire and heat, their need blazing out of control and leaving them gasping and panting.

"What are we doing?" Edward gasps as Bella's teeth graze his Adam's apple.

"I don't know," Bella replies breathlessly when Edward leans in to run his lips along her cheek. "This is a bad idea."

Edward grips her hips more tightly for a moment before running them over her ass, drawing Bella flush against his already aching erection. They rock together, their lips and tongues moving in a messy, eager kiss. This is the passion of their night together, magnified by the weeks of longing. This is the pent-up frustration borne of other lovers who didn't quite satisfy. This is reunion and desperation.

Edward's hands are rough on Bella's body. Bella tugs at Edward's hair until he hisses at the pain. It's not enough.

Without thought, Bella drops to her knees, her hands skimming over Edward's strong thighs. She can hear his strained breaths, and her heart hammers in her chest. She can't believe how much she wants this. She can already feel the way his cock will lay heavy on her tongue. She wants Edward inside her, in any way she can have him.

Hastily, she unfastens Edward's pants, plunging her hands under his boxers and pulling his clothes down to pool on the floor around his ankles. Edward's hand trembles as he cups her cheek, and Bella looks up at him with eyes so dark he gets lost in them.

The look of pure, naked want on Bella's face makes him ache.

Edward knows there's some reason he shouldn't do this. That he _can't_ do this, but everything feels dim and far away. Bella's mouth is on him before he can think, and it's so wet and hot, he feels his knees go weak.

Bella moans around him, taking him in deep without any build up. Edward lets out a strangled gasp, wondering hazily if any woman has ever fit that much of his cock in her mouth before tonight. The suction and pressure moving over him make his eyes roll and his head thump back against the door. Edward lets out a hiss when Bella's nails drag down the muscles of his thighs, leaving red marks in their wake.

"Isabella," he gasps, his slip over her name forgotten when the tip of her tongue flicks at the underside of his cock, wringing another strangled groan from him.

Bella's warm hands move up his thighs to gently tug and roll his balls. Edward feels the tip of her finger brush between his ass cheeks, and the needy whine that leaves his mouth surprises them both. Bella pulls back, letting his cock slip wetly from her mouth. Edward looks down, stupefied by the image in front of him as Bella sits back.

The vision of this woman kneeling in front of him, her fingers sliding her skirt up her thighs and moving her panties aside sears itself onto Edward's brain. All rational thoughts flee when Bella dips her fingers inside her own body and then holds them out toward him, glistening and wet.

Edward knows what she intends to do, but his heart still slams in his chest when the back of Bella's wrist bumps against his thigh. She moves her hand between his legs and one of those wet fingers slips between his cheeks, teasing his entrance. He groans.

God, he needs this. Needs her.

"Wider," Bella coaxes.

Edward gulps, shifting his weight, and is rewarded when her finger slides inside of him, just as she takes his cock in her mouth again. "Fuck," he pants. "Bella …"

Bella doesn't tease him or allow him any time to adjust. She sets a perfect rhythm, hard and fast, sucking with her mouth and fucking with her finger. Edward feels a curl of pleasure in his belly.

"Fuck, I can't …"

Bella stares up at him, once again eagerly taking in the sight of Edward's pleasure. She could become addicted to his pants and moans, his parted lips, his expression of need. She pulls her finger out, only to add the second. Bella wonders if he'll go down on her next, and she hums around his cock as she imagines it.

Edward's hands land on her head, digging into her hair more tightly than he realizes when she sucks harder. He forces his eyes to remain open and locked on the woman kneeling before him. Bella's red lips are stretched around his cock, her cheeks hollowed and her eyes watering with exertion. Edward gasps when she moans around him again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through his body. She looks unspeakably wanton. She looks glorious.

"Need …" Edward pants, "oh, God, I need to come."

Bella curls her fingers inside him, seeking out his prostate, and Edward's startled gasp tells her when she's found it. He comes with a force that makes his body curl over hers and puts his lips so close to her head she can hear his gasping breaths. "Oh, _fuck_."

Her lips continue to slide over him until, at last, Edward's hands loosen in her hair and he straightens. He cups Bella's jaw, his thumb grazing her cheek, gently coaxing her to relax her jaw.

Bella's eyes lock on Edward's as his cock slides out of her mouth, the salty sweetness of his release still clinging to the tip as it drags over her lips; he shudders when she licks it off them. She opens her mouth to speak, to ask Edward what he wants to do next, when a look of horror crosses his face. He jerks away, his expression one of mingled regret and shock.

"I'm sorry," he gasps. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have …" Edward yanks at his pants, pulling them up hastily over his hips. Bella's lips are still wet as he fumbles for the zipper on his pants.

Edward is gone before she fully realizes what's happening, the bathroom door swinging shut behind him as she remains kneeling on the soft white rug for a moment. Bella slumps forward, Edward's abrupt departure leaving her reeling. She hates that her first sexual encounter with a man since she quit the escort business has made her feel more like a whore than her job _ever_ did. She hates feeling hurt.

She washes her hands and pulls herself together, slipping out of the bathroom feeling numb. She avoids both Emmett and Rosalie, and Edward is long gone by the time she leaves the building and calls for a cab.

Edward goes home to his place above his workshop, falling heavily onto his bed and burying his head in his hands. He wonders how on earth he can break things off with the woman he's been dating, how to tell Angela that he cheated on her just moments after she left the party.

He feels ill.

He's never hated himself so much.

**~oOo~**

Several days later, Edward breaks the news to Angela. It's the first time they've had the chance to meet in person since the party, and she's stunned and clearly upset. Edward's apologies sound weak even to his ears, and he winces at the expression of hurt in Angela's eyes. He hates that the memory of Bella's horrified expression bothers him more, even as he leaves Angela's place for the last time.

Emmett has been pestering him to get together; he knows that something is wrong, that something happened during the party to cause Edward to leave. The violin maker has no idea how to explain what happened that night. Where can he begin?

Finally, unable to fob his friend off any longer, Edward agrees to meet Emmett for drinks. Inside one of their favorite bars, Edward can't hide anything from Emmett. The truth pours out of him, including the breakup with Angela. He hopes that his confession won't cause trouble for Bella, but Emmett seems unconcerned about that.

"Yeah, what you did to Angela was shitty," Emmett agrees. "I guess you just have to decide if Bella's worth it?"

Edward looks up at the dark-haired man, his voice cracking as he verbalizes the truth. "Worth it? I don't know. I don't even know her."

Emmett nods. He's a quiet man but has a tendency to drop pearls of wisdom into conversation. His friends know that he will always listen. "Do you want to?"

"Of course I do." Edward huffs in frustration. "I can't stop thinking about her."

They fall silent for a few minutes as they sip their drinks until Edward feels ready to continue. "I … I just don't understand it. I've never felt something like that with someone I just met. How is it we fit so well when we're practically strangers?"

Emmett smiles enigmatically. "You think I would have suggested you hire her if I didn't think you'd be a good fit? Not to mention inviting you both to my parties."

Edward frowns at his friend, puzzled. "Wait, you mean you've been trying to get us together? But what about her job?"

Emmett shrugs and sips his beer. "That job, Edward—it's just what Bella does, not who she is."

Edward contemplates his friend's words and what he can do to repair the damage between him and the small, dark-haired woman he finds so intriguing.

He doesn't like who he was that night or how he acted. He doesn't like that he cheated on a girlfriend, something that goes against everything he has ever promised to himself. He doesn't like that he can't stop thinking about his own family and comparing himself to his father.

Edward's stomach twists when he remembers the bewilderment on Bella's face as she knelt on the bathroom floor and watched him go. He feels ill. He treated her callously. He used her. He treated her like a sex worker on a night when no payment needed to change hands.

The violin maker paces and frets. He broods as he sketches new designs for violins, almost all of them inspired in some way by the woman called Bella. His hands smooth over blocks of wood as he composes ways to apologize to her. But the words never fit together right, and he flounders.

* * *

**Notes: **How did you feel about what happened between them at the party? We're eager to know what you think of the chapter, and how you think things might go between them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** Huge thanks to Sally for her always-impressive beta skills.

And thanks to all of you for your eager and enthusiastic reviews. We've enjoyed reading them all and are very excited to present the final portion of Assward and Tartella's story.

* * *

**~Chapter 4~**

Weeks after Emmett and Rosalie's party, Bella still feels conflicted over the way things transpired between her and Edward. Her feelings are complicated. She resents the way Edward treated her, and especially that she let him.

The disastrous encounter at the party proved Bella right: pursuing something more with Edward is a mistake. What Bella knows intellectually and what she feels in her heart, however, are two very different things.

A part of Bella misses him. She misses the charged sexual tension she felt with Edward. Even more, she misses the connection she felt with him. She wants to talk more with Edward, to get to know him as a person. She longs for his arms around her and the sweetness of his lips on hers.

After playing phone tag for a week, Rosalie and Bella agree to meet for lunch. They've gone out together a few times in the past and have developed a tentative friendship. They are seated at a table with salads and glasses of wine in front of them, when the blonde levels a searching look at Bella. "May I be blunt with you?"

Bella blinks in surprise and nods. "Of course."

"You're a fool."

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you and Edward dancing around each other? It's clear you're both more than attracted to each other."

Bella sputters and reaches for her wine. "We're not … I … it wouldn't …" She sighs, and sets her glass down, burying her face in her hands. "Things are complicated."

When Bella lifts her head, Rosalie arches one perfectly manicured brow and shrugs. "Aren't they always?" the blonde asks with a smile.

Bella sighs and takes a slow sip of her wine, her expression growing thoughtful as she ponders what to say. "Do you know why Edward hired me in the first place?" she asks.

"He wanted to be pegged, right?" The blonde shrugs again at Bella's look of surprise. "I've known Edward for years; his interest in pegging is no more of a secret than Emmett and I enjoying the pleasures of voyeurism."

Bella nods; even _she_ knows that about her former boss and his wife. She traces her finger along the white linen tablecloth as she thinks about how to explain things to the woman seated across from her. "I've never had an experience with a client like that before," she says finally.

"In what way?"

"One that was so … _intense_. We just worked together flawlessly. His cues were so easy for me to read and I've never been more aroused by anyone before ... clients and otherwise," she admits.

"Emmett thought you two might have chemistry."

Bella's lips curve into a smile. "I had a feeling he was up to something."

Rosalie nods in acknowledgement. "Let's put my husband's machinations aside for the moment, though. What is stopping you from seeing Edward?"

"Well, first it was my job."

"Did you quit for him?" Rosalie asks curiously.

Isabella snorts. "No. He didn't ask, and I wouldn't have agreed if he had. Edward _did_ make me realize that if I wanted a relationship with any depth, I would have to wait until I changed careers. So, yes, my experience with Edward made me think about my job differently, but that wasn't the only reason I quit.

"I missed music. Sure, I enjoyed being an escort. I love sex, I love bringing people pleasure; I love helping people fulfill fantasies they've only dared dream about. But I love music more. I love it in my bones, to the depth of my soul. Now that I'm playing again, even just casually as part of teaching, I honestly don't know how I went so many years without it."

Rosalie nods thoughtfully, her respect for Bella increasing. "You knew it was time to quit being an escort. You were ready to move on."

"Yes."

"Then why not go to Edward and tell him?"

"Fear of rejection." Bella laughs sadly at Rosalie's puzzled expression. "Edward makes me feel vulnerable in a way I've never felt before. I worry that he couldn't possibly have feelings for a woman with a past like mine."

The words are barely out of Bella's mouth before the other woman shakes her head. "Not Edward. He doesn't think any less of you for your past career."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I know Edward. I've known him for a long time. It just isn't in him to hate you or degrade you." Rosalie frowns. "I would have never thought you to be the kind of woman who looks down on herself for being an escort, Bella."

Bella sighs and sips her wine. "I don't, Rose. Or, I never did before. That night at your party … we connected again." Bella's cheeks redden at Rosalie's knowing gaze. "Afterward, he looked at me with such a horrified expression … he wouldn't even speak to me."

Rosalie shakes her head firmly. "It wasn't you, Bella; Edward didn't go into detail, but he told me a little bit about what happened. He was horrified with himself. He thinks less of himself for what happened, not you. He was disappointed by what he'd done."

"What part? Letting an escort give him a blowjob in a bathroom?" Bella's voice is thin and bitter. "Because that's what happened and it's pretty clear that's Edward thought less of me for it."

"_No_. It didn't have a thing to do with what you two did together, Bella. Edward wasn't disappointed in you; he was disappointed in himself for cheating on Angela."

An expression of understanding dawns on Bella's face. It had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with the other woman. "He cares for her that much?" she asks, disappointment tightening her throat.

"No, of course not," Rosalie says, exasperated. "By nature, Edward isn't a cheater; he hates that he made that choice. No matter what kind of relationship Edward has with women, he holds himself to a high standard. He doesn't want to be his father."

Bella raises an eyebrow, but the blonde doesn't elaborate. "Look, just go to him. Be honest with Edward about what you want. Talk to him."

Bella nods slowly. She's still hurt by the way Edward left, but now she has some understanding of his actions. Bella _does_ wants to talk to Edward; she's just unsure that she'll be able to do it. Always strong and confident, Bella doesn't know why this man makes her feel so vulnerable. Why he has gotten so far under her skin.

Rosalie studies the other woman's doubtful expression, then sighs and shifts in her seat. "Has Emmett ever told you my story?"

A smile ghosts across Rosalie's face when the other woman shakes her head no. "Of course he hasn't," she murmurs. She draws a deep breath before she speaks again.

"I was an escort. I didn't have a boss like Emmett. My boss's only goal was to make as much money from his girls as possible. He didn't care if we were roughed up a little, or if the clients weren't clean. He was a pimp in an expensive suit and if one of us was mistreated, oh well, there was always another desperate girl to take her place." Rosalie's voice is soft and bitter. "I won't go into details, but I am sure you can imagine what it was like."

Bella nods in understanding; she's heard more than enough sad stories over the years.

Rosalie smiles grimly. "One night I was at a hotel with a client. He got rough; really rough. When I tried to stop him, he lost it. I was afraid for my life, Bella. I screamed bloody murder. The hotel was low-end, and the staff didn't care what happened behind closed doors as long as a room was paid for. The man in the room next door made someone let him into the room. He found me just in time."

"Emmett?" Bella asks softly.

Rosalie nods, her chin lifting slightly as she continues. "Emmett saved me that night. He took me to the hospital and convinced me to talk to the police and press charges. Of course, the police charged me with prostitution. I … it wasn't my first charge and it was a while before I got out of jail. Emmett was waiting for me when I was released. I was convinced no man could ever care for me or love me after learning what I was, but Emmett did. Emmett is easy to love. It took me a long time, but eventually I learned to trust him, too."

"Is that why he runs his business the way he does?" Bella asks.

"Yes. We started it together. Until the laws change and prostitution is legalized, men and women in the sex industry will continue to be victimized. It took me years to realize it, Bella, but there is nothing wrong with people selling their bodies for money. There _is_ something wrong with a world where anyone feels they have the right to abuse us for that choice. And there _is_ something wrong with hating yourself for what you did.

"You are strong, Bella. Don't let self-doubt keep you from going after what you want. You and Edward deserve to be happy, and to see if you can make something work together."

**~oOo~**

In a perfect world, the violin instructor would march over to Edward Cullen's shop the minute lunch is over and demand that he talk to her. But Bella's world isn't perfect, and she loses her nerve. Instead, she goes home, mulling over what she might say to the violin maker. She draws a blank. She paces and frets. She plays her violin. The days pass, and still, Bella doesn't go to see him.

It isn't until she's out for a run one morning that the former escort nearly slams into two people that she expected never to see again.

"Isabella?" She lifts startled eyes to see the taller of the two men staring at her in shock.

"Garrett!" Bella's eyes widen more when she looks at the man by Garrett's side. "Riley?" She can't believe she's seeing them together out in public, much less holding hands. "I thought … I thought you two were …"

"Married to women? Never going to come out of the closet?" Garrett asks dryly. "We were. Until you left."

Bella blinks. "I don't understand."

Riley flashes her a beautiful smile. "Once you weren't there to act as a go-between, Garrett and I realized that we were going to lose each other. We didn't want anyone else to fill your role, so it came down to deciding what was most important to us; the lies we were living or what we had together." He glances warmly at the man by his side. "We realized that what we had was more important than anything else. We both filed for divorce and came out at work."

Bella shakes her head in awe. "How … how did it go?"

Garrett smiles wryly. "It sucked. There was a lot of screaming and shouting at home. I lost my job."

"I was able to keep my job, but my father is no longer speaking to me," Riley continues with a grimace. "It's been rough on our families."

"Was it worth it?" she asks.

The men look at each other again, their expressions so loving—so connected—that Bella's cheeks flush. She's been naked between them, been fucked by both of their strong bodies, and yet the look they share is more intimate than any act Bella has seen between them in the past.

"Yes," they answer quietly, their eyes never leaving each other's. "More than worth it."

Garrett and Riley exchange a kiss so sweet that Bella blinks back tears and looks away. She aches for Edward. For the only man she's ever kissed like that.

"What about you?" Riley teases as the men turn to face her. "What lucky man is filling your bed now that you've retired from the business?"

Bella tries to laugh past the lump in my throat. "There's no one who measures up to you two," she jokes, trying to keep her voice light.

The men level disbelieving looks Bella's way, and she shrugs. "There was someone I considered seeing, but …" she shakes her head. "I don't know. It wouldn't have worked out."

"How can you know unless you try?" Garrett asks, his hazel eyes twinkling when Riley utters a knowing laugh.

Bella wishes the men well, and leaves them with hugs and kisses while Garrett's words echo in her mind. She's unbelievably happy for her former clients, but her heart aches when she jogs away. Garrett and Riley had far more to risk than she does. They were brave enough to go after what they wanted; why can't she?

Unconsciously, Bella's feet carry her to the door of Cullen's Strings. Her heart hammers in her chest when she sees the sign above the door, and her cheeks are flushed, but it has nothing to do with the physical exertion. It has everything to do with man that she hopes is inside.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Bella lets herself inside the door. A jangling bell announces her presence, and she looks around eagerly. The small shop is quiet and empty. Edward is nowhere in sight.

**~oOo~**

Edward is in his workshop at the back of the store. The sound of the bell above the door registers in the back of his brain, but he doesn't stop working until he remembers that Alice, the girl who works out front, is out sick for the day. He curses quietly to himself, setting the chisel down on his workbench and dusting his hands against his apron before pulling it off.

"I'll be right with you."

The woman freezes at the sound of Edward's voice calling from the back of the shop. She draws a deep breath, forcing herself to continue examining the shop around her.

Everything is meticulously neat. The cool air of the shop is perfumed with the smells of roisin and fine wood. There are white shelves lining the walls, setting off the rich tones of the beautiful violins on display. There's a small upholstered seating area to one side and several wooden chairs and music stands. On the other side of the room are glass display cases with more violins that draw Bella's eyes. She knows that the violins on the shelves are by no means inexpensive; they are beautifully crafted instruments in their own right. The violins in the display cases, however, are rare, fine art pieces; she instinctively knows that they are the jewels in Edward's collection.

"Sorry about the delay." Edward's voice grows louder as he walks through the door at the back of the shop. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He halts in his tracks when Bella turns to face him, his eyes going wide with surprise. He blinks, steadying himself for a moment with one hand on a glass case by his side. His fingers tighten on the case's edge, drawing Bella's gaze as he murmurs her name. He knows her friends call her Bella, but he doesn't quite feel comfortable using that name yet. "Isabella?"

His eyes move over her slowly, taking in her athletic shoes and sleek-fitting running gear. Her flushed cheeks and the dark hair curling softly at her temple. His mind flashes back to the memory of her lying on a big hotel bed, her expression soft and her hair tangled on the pillow. His chest aches with the urge to hold her again.

"Edward." Bella's voice is soft and a little tentative as her eyes move over the man before her. He is dressed casually, and she can see little curls of wood caught in the fine strands of his hair.

"You ..." Edward has no idea what to say. Half-formed thoughts whirl through his mind and he feels as though he can't quite draw in a full breath.

Bella steps forward toward him for a moment, her hand outstretched as if to touch him. "I …" she has to take a deep breath to steady herself. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I'm sorry I left like that the other night," he blurts out. "It had nothing to do with you, I swear. I mean, it _did_ have to do with you, but not in the way you might be thinking."

She nods slowly. "You made me feel cheap."

Edward's face twists. "I never meant to make you feel that way."

Bella turns away, running her fingertips slowly across the wooden edge of the case beside her. "You may not have meant it, but I felt like a whore, Edward. I never felt that way once in eight years as an escort."

Edward bows his head in shame. He knew he had hurt Bella with his behavior but he had no idea how deeply.

"It wasn't you," he says hoarsely. "I was horrified by myself. You have to understand, my father … my father was a philandering asshole. He cheated on my mother over and over again. I never understood how he could do that to a woman he claimed to love. I swore to myself that I'd never be that man. And yet …"

"Do you love Angela?" Bella asks, glancing over at him.

Edward shakes his head. "No. Angela was … I realize now that I wanted her to be someone else."

"Who?"

Edward looks her squarely in the eye. "You."

The word hangs heavily in the air and the violin maker takes a step toward her. He brushes his palm over Bella's upper arm, and she swallows at the heat in his touch, warming her skin through the fabric of her light jacket. "Me?"

"Yes. You." Edward looks at her for a long moment. "Can you forgive me for the way I acted at the party?"

Bella nods slowly. "Are you still with Angela?"

"No. I broke it off after that night. She deserves better." Edward reaches up, gently tracing the backs of his fingers over Bella's cheek. "If you can forgive me, does that mean that you'd consider the idea of seeing me again? Not as a client."

Bella opens her mouth to tell Edward that she isn't an escort anymore, but he continues.

"I can't promise that I won't struggle with sharing you with your clients, but I'm willing to try. I won't ask you to quit for me, Isabella. I know you love what you do, and I'd never ask you to stop just because it makes me uncomfortable. I won't lie … it will be difficult for me, but I can't keep fighting this."

Bella smiles up at him tremulously, amazed that this man is willing to go beyond where he's comfortable with to be with her. Then again, wasn't that the very reason they met in the first place? Edward hired her because he wanted to stretch his limits.

"Thank you, Edward," she says humbly. She steps closer, breathing in the mingled scents of wood shavings and his cologne. She reaches out, taking Edward's hand, feeling his long fingers close over hers.

"I can't explain it." Edward sounds slightly bewildered as he speaks. "I've never felt this way with anyone. And I'm not willing to let you walk out this door without trying to see where it can go. We might fail, but how do we know unless we try?"

Bella smiles as Edward echoes Garrett's earlier words, and then she leans in to kiss him. Edward makes a low, surprised sound in the back of his throat, but wastes no time in kissing her back.

Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted by the bell over the shop door. Edward draws back with a groan of frustration and Bella dips her head, smiling at the sound. The violin maker's expression is polite as he turns to greet the customer, but his fingers slide against Bella's as if reluctant to let go.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

While Edward helps the customer, Bella wanders around the shop. She pauses by one of the cases, surprised to see one violin displayed alone, a card beside the piece stating that that it is not for sale. It's the most beautiful violin she's ever seen, and even through the glass she can the painstaking attention to detail that was paid when it was made. Bella's fingers itch to touch the glossy finish, and she leans in closer to inspect the piece further. It's laid out on soft velvet, and there's another small, hand-written tag by the violin's neck. She noticed similar cards by the other violins and knows that Edward names each piece he builds. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees the name written on this violin's card: _Bella._

Logically, Bella knows that the name could be nothing more than a reference to the Italian word for _beautiful_. Still, a part of her wants to believe that Edward made this violin for her. She's so transfixed by the little card, that she doesn't notice the customer leave, or the man as he closes up the shop.

Edward snaps the lock on the door and flips over the sign that tells the world his store is closed. He doesn't care if he loses business by closing a few hours early; he's more concerned with the woman on the other side of the room. Bella is bent over the case holding the violin he made with her in mind, inspecting it closely through the glass. She doesn't stir when Edward comes to stand behind her, though she does jump when he places his palm gently on her shoulder.

"Would you like to play it?" he asks quietly.

Bella's eyes fly to meet his, wide and astonished. "More than anything."

Edward fishes the key to the case out of his pocket, neither of them speaking a word as he carefully lifts the instrument from the velvet and places it in Bella's hands. Holding it reverently, she moves to seat herself in one of the wooden chairs across the room. Edward follows, taking a seat on an upholstered chair a few feet away.

Bella closes her eyes as she lifts the instrument to her shoulder, tucking it neatly under her chin. Edward smiles when he sees that the violin he carved looks right in Bella's hands, like it belongs there. When the first pure, sweet note fills the air, Edward lets go of a breath that he feels he's been holding since he walked away from the hotel all those months ago.

The violin fills the air with words neither Edward nor Bella can speak, telling a story of a man haunted by the memory of a woman, and the woman's need for him. It tells of their fears and insecurities. But mostly it tells of their future.

Bella's cheeks are tear-stained when she finishes playing. Edward gets to his feet, walking slowly toward her before squatting beside her chair.

"You made this for me," she says. It isn't a question, but a statement of fact. She _knows_ he did.

Edward nods once, his voice hoarse. "Yes. I never thought I'd get to see you play it, though."

Bella lowers the violin carefully to her lap and bows her head so their foreheads touch, though neither looks at the other. "I quit working for Emmett six months ago," she says quietly. "I'm a violin instructor now."

She feels Edward start and they lift their heads to gaze at each other. There's a light in his eyes, but a worried frown still creases his forehead.

"Why did you quit?" he asks.

"Because it was time."

Edward nods and swallows hard, lifting the violin and bow from her hands and returning them to the case. "This violin is yours, but I'll keep it safe until you'd like to take it home."

"I think I'd like to keep it here," she offers and he nods, hearing her unspoken words. The violin will be something they share, and Bella will be here enough to play it whenever she wants.

"Why was it time?" he asks as he walks back over to her.

Edward listens as Bella explains her decision the best that she can; her need for music in her life, her desire to make it her career again, and the hope for a relationship outside of her former work. He nods when she's finished, satisfied with her answer, and holds out his hand to Bella. She looks up at him from her seat in the wooden chair, her eyes alight with hope and Edward's heart beats faster when she puts her small, warm hand in his.

Silently, Bella lets Edward lead her to the back room. He flicks off the lights in the shop and closes the door between the store front and the workshop. The workshop is warm and homey, with the scent of wood shavings and polish hanging deliciously heavy in the air. An organized mess of tools and wood is scattered over workbenches. It looks like chaos to Bella's eyes, but she suspects that the man by her side knows exactly where everything is; she imagines he can find anything he needs while blindfolded.

Memories of Edward blindfolded fill Bella's mind, and she sees him bent over the hotel bed and then lying back against the white sheets, mindlessly lost in pleasure. Bella longs to touch him again, and this time, to feel him inside her.

"What now?" she asks, unsure of how they'll proceed from here. Her voice is warmed by remembered passion.

Edward stops, leaning against a heavy workbench as he turns to look at her. "I don't know," he says honestly. "I know I want to get to know you. I want to take you out. To dinner, out dancing, to the symphony." He grins when Bella laughs gently at his eager words. "I want to see you in my apartment, Isabella. In my bed. I want you in my life."

"That works for me," Bella says, her voice surprisingly shaky. She doesn't care in what order these things happens; they can have their date tomorrow or a week from now. Right now she just wants to touch this man.

Edward smiles at Bella's words, and then leads her to the stairs along the back wall of his workshop, holding her hand as they walk up and into his apartment.

His home is exactly what Bella might have expected. Neat and cozy, filled with warm wood furnishings and comfortable, personal details although they don't truly register as she follows Edward toward his bedroom. She's too focused on what will happen next.

Just inside the door, they turn to one another, unable to keep from touching any longer. Edward can feel Bella trembling against him when he pulls her close to kiss her, and he stifles a groan as her arms slide around his neck. His large hands close around her hips and he lifts her easily, setting her gently on the scarred wooden top of his bureau. He likes the sight of her there, and that the bureau brings her hips level with his. Bella buries her fingers in his hair as she kisses him, reacquainting herself with his taste and feel. _Edward._

He moans against her mouth when his hips meet the insides of her thighs. The heat there is astonishing and he wonders what it will feel like when he's inside her. His hands move down over Bella's thighs and then up again to her waist. Bella's body fits in Edward's hands perfectly, as if she was made for him. Seemingly handcrafted, much like the violins he carves for their owners.

Bella's hands slide from Edward's hair over his shoulders, ghosting over his pecs and down his stomach. Her fingers slip between their bodies to lift his shirt. Edward pulls back to allow room for Bella's searching fingers, and the movement rocks his dick against her.

Like their encounter in Emmett's bathroom, there is a frantic, desperation to their touches. Edward's mouth is hot and wet against Bella's neck as he uses one hand to push against her knee, folding her thigh up against her chest. Bella lets out a shaky breath when Edward presses closer, fitting himself more tightly against her body.

Edward licks the salt from Bella's skin, his mouth lingering on her throat, one hand sliding toward her breast. His thumb toys with her nipple through her clothing, and he feels it harden under his touch.

"Yes, Edward," she gasps.

He unzips Bella's light-weight jacket, sliding it off her shoulders before slipping his hands under the tightly fitting athletic bra, pulling it up and over her head with one quick movement. When Bella is bare from the waist up, Edward dips his head to press his lips to the soft skin on her sternum. His tongue slides across her collarbones as his hands move to her breasts and he hums, appreciating the weight of them in his hands, and the way her nipples pucker at his touch.

Bella moans softly at the feel of Edward's rough, strong hands gently teasing her. It's so different being the focus of his attention rather than the other way around. Now _she_ is the one making desperate noises, the one writhing, the one who is ready to beg for more.

"Need you," she murmurs. "Oh please."

Bella doesn't even know what she wants. Whether it's Edward's hands and lips on her body, his fingers inside of her, or his cock inside her, all she know is she needs more.

Edward's skin is hot and smooth under Bella's hands when he lifts her, carrying her quickly to the bed. He lays her out swiftly, then stretches his body over hers, pressing her against the mattress so she can feel the crisp hairs on his chest dragging across her aching nipples.

Bella gasps when Edward's tongue slides over hers in a deep kiss. His hands roughly hook under her knees, tugging her forward and pressing her thighs up and back toward her. Edward's cock bites into her soft skin, pressing through the heavy denim of his jeans, and Bella lets out a needy whimper. She's imagined this since their night in the hotel room, imagined him touching her just like this.

Edward lifts his lips from hers, staring down at her face, his eyes dark and intent. "You tortured me, you know."

"What?" she asks, puzzled.

"I needed you inside me so badly and you wouldn't give it to me. You made me beg for it."

Bella's grin lights her eyes. "You enjoyed every second of it. Besides, I had to make sure you were ready to take me."

Edward growls low in his throat, his cock throbbing at her words. He rocks his hips against hers, teasing her. "Are you ready to take me now?"

Bella nods eagerly, her breathing shallow and strained. Her hips shift restlessly in anticipation and her eyes follow Edward as he steps back, watching his hands move teasingly to the waistband of his jeans. They're slung low enough that she can see the edge of his grey boxer briefs, and his fingers move over the buttons in the fly with unbearable slowness. Bella props herself up on her elbows to get a better view, sweat breaking out on her forehead as Edward teases her.

When his buttons are undone, Edward slides a hand into his opened fly, palming his cock and rubbing just a little. Bella's breath hitches in her chest; she has never wanted anyone so badly.

Edward is nearly at the end of his rope, but enjoys teasing Bella too much to stop. He loves watching her squirm in anticipation, and that she is desperate for more. He doesn't know what this is—what this intensity between them means—but he's never felt anything like it. It's heady and addictive. It makes him crave more.

He hooks his thumbs under the edge of his boxers, sliding them down over his hips and letting them drop with the jeans to the floor. Bella's lips part as his clothes fall away and Edward remembers the way that mouth felt around his cock. He could slide into her mouth right now, if he wanted, but he'd rather sink into her pussy. He moves forward, stepping out of his jeans to grip the waistband of Bella's athletic pants, pulling them down her body along with the underwear she's wearing.

During their night in the hotel, Edward was been so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he hadn't really looked at Bella. He looks his fill now. Bella has a perfect hourglass figure with full breasts, a slim, nipped waist, and flared hips. She is like one of Edward's violins, but a thousand times more beautiful.

He hurriedly finds a condom and rolls it on, his eyes hardly leaving hers. His gaze makes her shiver as he steps closer to her. Her skin is smooth and pale, and she trembles as Edward slides his hands up over the tops of her thighs to grip her hips.

He leans over to kiss her when Bella moans, climbing back onto the bed to settle between her thighs. Bella shifts, squeezing Edward's hips with her knees before wrapping her legs around him. Edward's hips rock forward, his cock sliding over the slick heat of her pussy, and they let out mingled groans of need.

Bella clutches Edward's broad shoulder with both hands when the head of his cock grazes her clit. She lets out a startled gasp and he presses a little harder on the next pass.

"Oh God, Edward," she pleads. "Please."

Edward's hand moves to grasp his cock, and he aligns his body with Bella's entrance. He pauses, looking down at her to gauge her reaction. Bella lifts her hips, subtly urging him on. Before he does anything else, his lips touch hers again, and then he pushes forward.

They both freeze for a long moment.

Edward feels Bella's breath against his forehead. Bella kisses the skin there softly and Edward blows out a gust of air when her body grips his cock.

Bella's heart is racing. She whimpers, wordlessly begging Edward to move, and when he finally does, licks of pleasure run down her spine. She moans loudly. Edward moves slowly at first, as if he's teasing her again, and Bella writhes under him, her hips rising to meet his smooth, even strokes. Edward slides his arms under her shoulders, lifting her so they can kiss more deeply.

Edward wants to draw this out, to make the feeling last and last. He can't. The sensations sweeping over him are too intense. His movement quicken, his breaths coming harsh and heavy. He tears his mouth from Bella's with a grunt, and lifts his torso off hers. Bella gasps when Edward hits the perfect angle and pace, throwing her arms up over her head. Her legs lock around his hips as he drives into her.

Bella's orgasm sweeps over her in a sudden rush, bowing her back and pulling a desperate cry from her lips. Edward watches Bella tremble in his arms, a flush spreading over her face and neck as her body pulses around his cock. All it takes is a few hard thrusts to tip him over the edge. The room tilts around Edward as he gasps, his body jerking, and the pleasure stretches on and on, seeming endless. He finally collapses against Bella, his head on her chest and her arms loose around his waist.

Both of them are shaking and panting; overcome. Bella's fingers move through Edward's hair gently, the action soothing them both.

"Isabella," he whispers against her skin, pausing when he feels her shakes her head.

"It's Bella. Just Bella."

"Bella," he repeats and smiles.

**~oOo~**

When they can move again, Bella and Edward make use of his shower before tumbling back onto the soft sheets of his bed.

They spend hours talking and fucking, becoming better acquainted with each other as they intersperse their pleasure with conversation. Bella likes the way Edward laughs; it warms something inside her chest. Edward likes Bella's curiosity; the way she peers up at him when she's waiting for him to answer a question. She enjoys his affectionate gestures and the way his hands seem never to leave her body. He notes the way she fits in his arms and smiles when she tucks herself against him as if she belongs there.

Bella appreciates the way Edward listens to her past; never judging, never dismissing, only curious. Edward likes the way Bella talks about her new career; eager to teach her students. He imagines her turning the space above his shop into a small violin school, so they'll be close during the day. She imagines him moving into her condo, filling it with his warm presence.

They muse about the way they met and Edward laughs softly, his lips against Bella's neck. "I don't have to hire you to get you to fuck my ass again, do I?"

Bella shakes her head, pleased that they can joke about it. "No, believe me; I'm eager to do it again."

He makes a low sound of appreciation and slides his warm palm over her back, drawing her closer. "Who would have thought that a violin teacher and a violin maker would meet through an escort service?"

Bella hums, stretching against Edward's body. She knows their meeting had more to do with a friend who saw a need in them both, and helped guide them toward each other.

"Emmett," she says, gently correcting the man holding her in his arms. "We met through Emmett."

Bella knows that, years from now, when people ask the couple how they met, they'll share a small, secret smile and then answer honestly. "Through a friend."

* * *

**Notes:** We hope you like the way the story wrapped up. They aren't perfect people by any means, but they've found something really unique together.

If you'd like a little glimpse into their future together, take a look at this  i39#tinypic#com/59t0d4#jpg

(Copy and paste, and replace the # with a period)


	5. Chapter 5 - Outtake

**Notes:** We had absolutely no intention of revisiting these two until we found out it was Livie's birthday. Some friends organized a blog with picture prompts, and lots of people wrote short (500 word) stories. None of the prompts spoke to us, so we decided to do 500 words each and do an outtake of this story. Livie has been this story's biggest champion, and Ooza was kind enough to post it on the birthday blog. So, happy birthday to Livie, and we hope you enjoy this brief glimpse of Assward and Tartella.

Also, big thanks as always to Alice's White Rabbit for her beta skills.

* * *

**Outtake**

The man's breath rushes out of him when his body hits the mattress. He laughs and stretches his arms above his head, anticipation curling in his belly. He bites back a groan when he feels the bed dip, and a warm hand comes to rest on the small of his back.

"Mmm. Look at you, Edward. I love it when you're like this."

The voice behind him is sweet and low, and the man closes his eyes, struggling not to roll his hips into the sheets.

"So impatient," the woman murmurs, shifting closer to place one knee between Edward's legs.

"Bella," he manages unsteadily. "Don't tease me."

Edward holds his breath when Bella moves to hover over him, the tips of her breasts brushing his left shoulder.

"Oh, come on ... you love it when I tease, baby," she says, her lips close to his ear. "Don't you?"

Edward opens his mouth to retort but freezes when Bella lowers her hips, pressing her body against him. Leather straps rasp lightly over his skin before the weight of his favorite dildo comes to rest against his ass cheek. The words that Edward planned to utter are lost in a wanton groan.

"That's what I thought," Bella says, leaning further forward to press a kiss against Edward's mouth.

The smooth slide of Bella's tongue between Edward's lips spurs him to move. He rolls to one side, quickly sweeping Bella's slim form into his arms The moment softens briefly, becoming more gentle as the lovers kiss, murmuring sweetly against each other's lips. Edward's breath catches when the head of the dildo presses against his cock, sending a jolt of arousal through him.

"Oh, God," he breathes, biting his lip as his body throbs.

Bella kisses him once more. "Hold that thought, sweet man."

Edward lies with one arm over his eyes, his excitement mounting as he listens to Bella's movements. The click of the lube bottle, the sound of fingers being slicked, Bella's low hum of encouragement as she urges him onto his back and spreads his legs.

Goosebumps rise along Edward's skin when one cool finger traces his balls, circling his entrance before pushing slowly inside. His breath stutters, his heart pounding harder when another finger slides beside the first. He moans when two become three.

Edward drops his arm, his eyes searching for Bella's, and his chest tightens when she smiles.

Bella kneels before him, aligning the dildo with Edward's body before slowly pressing forward. He breathes deeply, biting his lip against the sting, groaning when Bella's hips meet his. The pain fades when Bella begins to rock against him, becoming the pleasure Edward craves.

Edward's hands tremble at Bella's waist, tugging her against him. He loves this: Bella's weight between his legs, the slide of the toy in his ass, her hands braced against his chest. He raises his legs, gasping when Bella shifts her weight, and his eyes fall shut as pleasure surges through him, expanding almost too quickly.

**~SMSM~**

Edward's voice is thin and strained when he speaks. "Too soon, oh God, too soon."

Bella's movements slow, becoming easy and languid. The toy slides across Edward's prostate, dragging back and forth with exquisite intensity, making him gasp.

"It's so good, Bella," he pants. "God, it's always so good."

The first time Bella pegged him was incredible, but it's that much better now. She knows every tiny nuance of Edward's reactions, and conversely, he knows hers.

Bella looks down at him, her warm brown eyes shining and full of something he can't quite pinpoint. She leans down to kiss him, and Edward cranes his neck to make it easier, needing to feel her lips on his.

Three months have passed in a flash. Bella's life has begun to intertwine with Edward's; she holds lessons at his store, and he sold a violin to one of her students. The nights they spend at the symphony are something they both treasure. Edward worried that Bella would be melancholy, and miss her lost chance to become a concert violinist, but she adores the performances.

Sometimes Bella's happiness is nearly overwhelming; she can scarcely believe it's real.

Her movements are purposeful again when she sits up. She wraps one hand around Edward's cock, slowly stroking. He's hard, so hard, and he gasps, gritting his teeth against the pleasure. Bella loves to watch him like this, on the knife edge of coming.

Bella's cheeks flush as she struggles to keep from thrusting harder inside him. The toy they are using is double-ended, and she can get off while she fucks Edward, something the both love.

They've explored so many fantasies together, but when it comes down to it, the two of them in a large, comfortable bed, touching and tasting each other is always the best. It doesn't matter which of them are on the receiving end of things, it's about the connection.

"Are you close?" Edward asks roughly, his hands coming up to toy with her nipples. Bella can see the tremor in his hands and knows he can hardly think straight at the moment. His hands always look so large against her body, rough against her delicate skin, and she craves the feel of his callouses against her sensitive flesh.

Bella's thighs shake, her stomach quivering as she leans in to get the perfect angle. She's so close and she can feel Edward's cock surge in her hand. "Come, baby," she whispers, her body clenching around the toy as she snaps her hips forward, hearing Edward's wanton groan when his release pulses over her hand. Bella throws her head back, her body spasming as she comes, too until she collapses onto Edward's chest, gasping at the intensity of her pleasure.

Edward cups her cheek in his hand, staring into her eyes. His voice is quiet and hoarse with emotion when he speaks. "I love you, Bella."

Bella's smile is joyous as she stretches up to kiss him. "I love you, too, baby."

Notes: So, we each wrote half of this. Can you tell which of us wrote which part? And what did you think of it?

If you hadn't heard, this story was nominated (by Livie!) for Top 10 Completed Fics for May. Please head over to TwiFanFictionRecs and vote! You can vote once a day until the end of June. (Copy and paste the link, and replace the # with a period)

twifanfictionrecs#com/2013/06/01/vote-for-your-top -ten-completed-fics-may-2013/


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